


Protection

by TuckerPuppy (HarleyD)



Category: Oz (TV)
Genre: Anal, Language, M/M, Non Consensual, Oral, Rape/Non-con References, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-12
Updated: 2013-02-06
Packaged: 2017-11-25 04:43:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 33,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/635236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HarleyD/pseuds/TuckerPuppy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When things with El Cid are starting to become unbearable Miguel knows there is only one place to turn to.  Ryan/Miguel Slash, a little bit of Miguel/OC to keep the story moving, and a mostly bickering Beecher/Keller.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

He found Miguel in an empty hallway, bloody and crying.  Ryan could hear the others coming back from lunch.  Without thinking about it he grabbed Miguel's arm and pulled him into an empty storage room.  He pushed him lightly, letting him lean against the wall.

     "You okay man?"

     He nodded warily and when Ryan took a step towards him he quickly stumbled away, fear flashing in his eyes.  Ryan frowned and stepped back, "Who did this to you?"  For a moment, based on Alvarez's fearful reaction to him he thought that maybe it had been the Irish.

     He looked up at him and then back at the floor, "The Latinos."

     He couldn't help the look of surprise that crossed his face, "Fuck, I knew you weren't the boss anymore, but I didn't realize you dropped that much." 

     He didn't answer or look up, just continued to lean against the wall, his head hanging.  Ryan scowled and then moved quickly into Alvarez's personal space, pushing him against the wall so that their bodies were flush against each other's.  He grabbed his chin, forcing eye contact, "Listen, have a free piece of advice, you're not a boss anymore and you don't have the Latinos backing you up anymore, that means if you keep acting like a pussy you are going to get fucked over by people here."

     There was fear and, more dangerously, desperation in his eyes.  A combination that Ryan had seen in people before, like Beecher when he first got to Oz.  He sneered, "Maybe even literally."

     And then finally the anger, a snarl, "Fuck you O'Reily."

     A return anger flared in Ryan and he grabbed Alvarez by the arm, twisting it securely behind his back and pressing him across a table, his other arm trapped between his body and the table.  O'Reily used his free hand on the back of his neck, holding Alvarez's head down before using his knee to push his legs apart and then he waited.

     He expected to get a struggle and rage from the other; he was just trying to get a response.  What he didn't expect was for him to go limp in his grasp.  "Miguel?"

     A tear tinted voice, just this side of a sob, "If you're going to do it O'Reily, just fucking  _do it_  already."  There were definitely tears in his voice now and a slight tremble began to take hold of his whole body.

     It was the resignation that gave it away, he spoke, his voice slightly awed, "El Cid is fucking you."  More statement than question, and definitely one Miguel didn't have to answer, the tears were answer enough.  He spun him around quickly, seeing the other's tear streaked face and then just as quickly pulled the smaller man into a hug.  The little bit of tenderness was too much and the stifled tears turned into desperate sobs.

     Ryan held him tight, making soft soothing sounds.  He was a little annoyed with his own reaction, but quickly attributed it to a natural response after taking care of Cyril for so long. 

     When he calmed down Ryan held him at arm's length and tried to get eye contact, but he steadily avoided his gaze.  He finally resorted to grasping his chin again, forcing his head up.  "He's fucking you and not protecting you?"

     He answered bitterly, "Latinos don't have prags."

     An idea formed in Ryan's head before he actually gave it permission to, and he felt a smile curve on his lips, ever the model Machiavellian.  "Listen, I might be able to help you.  I'm gonna leave, follow in a couple minutes.  Once you're back at Em City come see me in my pod sometime before count.  Got it?"

     Miguel looked him in the eye, looked like he wanted to tell O'Reily to fuck off and almost did, but then he compliantly nodded, mumbling that he would be there.

     Ryan smiled and nodded and then before anything else could happen was out the door on his way back to Em City.

     By the time Alvarez got to his pod, Ryan had his pitch all worked out in his head, positive that he would get what he wanted.  Miguel strutted in, acting every bit the boss he's wasn't, and shut the door behind him.

     "All right O'Reily, I'm here.  How can you help me?"

     He smiled with the total confidence of a person that always got what he wanted.  "You're gonna be my prag."

     There was a stunned silence in which Miguel just stared at Ryan, a blank look on his face and then, "No fucking way."

     His smile didn't falter, not like he wasn't expecting that.  "You're already getting fucked, so what if it's a change in person, at least I would protect you."

     He shook his head, "No, No!  I can't, won't let that happen to me, to my reputation."

     There was too much hesitation in his voice; he was considering it and Ryan's smile grew.  "I can also get the Irish to protect your ass."

     As Miguel thought it over, his emotions easy to read across his face, Ryan felt the urge to get antsy.  He hadn't had his dick in anything since coming to Oz and lately had been thinking that a prag wouldn't be a bad way to go and there was a world of difference in prison, for all his talking of not being gay, of fucking and getting fucked.  All this in mind he brought out his last bit of ammunition, "And its not like everyone doesn't already know you're getting fucked."

     And yes, there was Alvarez's head popping up, eyes widening, almost comical.  " _What?_ "

     Hook, line and sinker.  "El Cid let it slip last council meeting, talked about how you screamed just like a girl he used to know when he was hilt deep in your ass."

     'And that explains so much' Alvarez thought as he looked back at the last couple days and the looks he had been getting, he thought it was his imagination and suddenly the decision wasn't so hard.  On one hand there was him getting the shit kicked out of him and having El Cid fuck him up the ass every night, or being protected by the Irish and the toughest mother fucking Mick to ever live, and well, getting fucked by that same one.  And well fuck, like that's even a decision he thought as he looked at O'Reily and somewhat bitterly nodded.

     "Good, I knew you would take my deal, you're not stupid Miguel.  Now go talk to McManus about switching your pod."  He looked down at the book he had then, dismissively, and listened to Alvarez stand there for a second and then turn, heading silently towards McManus's office.

     The confrontation was quick and surprisingly painless.  Miguel was halfway out the door before he realized the sympathy on Tim's face was because he was at the council meeting as well, heard what El Cid said about him.  That's why he was so understanding about switching pods.  Standing just outside Tim's office Miguel cursed as he felt himself blushing, the knowledge of what was about to happen nearly overwhelming him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some of the timing is off, and that's my fault, but I just can't find something interesting for them to do in that 5 hours before lights out.


	2. Chapter 2

He headed for his now former pod, but stopped when he saw El Cid sitting on his bunk.  He met the other man's eyes and flinched when he saw the look in them.  It was the look that guaranteed that his ass was about to be either kicked or fucked, and soon.  He cringed and started to move forward again, prepared for the worst, but then he realized something.  He didn't have to; he wasn't alone in this anymore.  Without breaking his stride he changed directions and headed for Ryan.

     Ryan saw Miguel standing in the doorway, but frowned when he realized he was empty handed.  "He say no?"

     "He said yes." 

Ryan waited for him to elaborate, but he didn't.  "Then where is your stuff?"

He looked up carefully, "We're really doing this?  Out in the open, not behind closed doors?"

It was Ryan's turn to frown and he let anger color his words, "Are you backing out of our deal?"

Miguel's response was quick and panicked, "No, NO!  Not at all, I didn't mean to imply that, only what I was asking."  The desperation in his voice was almost painful to hear and for a second Ryan felt almost bad about taking advantage of it. 

"Yeah, out in the open."

"Then you have to come with me to get my stuff."

He felt his eyebrows raise in surprise, "Maybe you're confused about just who is gonna be the prag here, I don't have to help you cart your stuff."

"I know that," he snapped and then softer, apologetic, "El Cid is there."

O'Reily abruptly laughed, "Didn't take you long to fall into the groove, did it?  Well come on, let's get your stuff."

He moved into his cell and forced himself to ignore El Cid as he stood up, casting a quick glance to Ryan, standing a few feet behind him.

" _Michael_  where have you been off to?"  He seemed to suddenly realize what he was doing, "Leaving?"

He moved towards him and Miguel froze in fear, but then Ryan was standing in between them.  "Something wrong  _Raoul_?"

He looked puzzled but quickly covered it up, "Nothing that is any of your business, you fuckin' Mick."

"Now it is."  He glanced back to see Miguel had all his stuff together and nodded his head to the door, not watching to make sure he obeyed.  "Everything relating to Miguel is my business now, got it?"

"And why is that?"

He smoothly caught Miguel around the waist as he walked by, causing a small surprised yelp to emerge, and tightened his grip possessively, "Cause he's mine now."  He leaned in close to him to whisper in his ear, "Go to the pod, got it?"

There was a quick glare before he acquiesced, "Sure."

He played with the thought that Miguel was gonna have to show some more respect, maybe call him sir, but the ground rules could be established later.  He turned back to El Cid.

Alvarez could feel all the eyes in Em City on him and he could feel his face heat with humiliation and his entire body tense as he studiously ignored everyone. 

He reached the pod without a problem, bar the nasty comments flying his way, and quickly set his stuff down on the bottom bunk, sitting down next to it to wait for O'Reily.  He couldn't believe he had actually agreed to be a prag, to Ryan O'Reily of all people, but to his surprise instead of overwhelming shame he really just felt... safe.

He heard someone approach and looked up, expecting Ryan, but instead he found Beecher standing in the doorway.

He spoke before he thought and snapped, "What do you want, bitch?"

Beecher's nose wrinkled in annoyance or disgust, he wasn't sure which, and he responded back with just as much anger, "Ain't that the pot calling the kettle black, prag."

He frowned, it wasn't like he could argue with that, he  _was_  a prag now.  He amended his voice, this time letting apology and interest fill it, "Need something?"

He watched him for a moment and then seemed to nod about something, "Just wanted to see if you're okay."

"Why do you care?"

A smile pulled at Beecher's mouth, "O'Reily asked me to."

O'Reily had asked him to?  "Why?"

"He had some business to attend to, talking to people I'm sure, didn't have time before count to come check on you so he asked me to."

He wasn't sure what to say to that, since the day he walked into the prison it seemed as if everything and everybody was going against him.  Beecher seemed to see the hesitation and moved further into the pod, "Are you?  Okay?"

He couldn't stop his next question or the cruel edge that went with it, "Were you okay when Vern was fucking you?"

Beecher just smiled, not even angry, "Not particularly."

He could see that there was more though, "but?"

He shrugged, "O'Reily isn't Schillinger."  He shook himself then as if waking himself up, "but anyway, I guess you could say I understand, so if you do ever want to talk," he half smiled sardonically, "it's not like I'm going anywhere."

He didn't wait for an answer, just turned and left.  Miguel sighed and lay back on his bunk, closing his eyes.  'What had he gotten himself into?'

Ryan whistled to himself as he headed for his pod, the bell for count just ringing.  Most inmates were outside their doors and as he approached his own he realized Alvarez wasn't out there.  He moved into his pod to see the smaller man curled up on his bunk, sound asleep.  He shook his shoulder gently, "Come on Miguel, get up, count."

He blinked up at him and Ryan smiled, "Come on, get your ass up, its time for count."

He yawned and then stretched out the full length of his bed and Ryan couldn't help but compare him to a big cat.  He groggily got up and moved to lean against the doorframe, waiting for the hacks to pass.

As soon as they headed into their pod Ryan moved his hand to the back of Miguel's neck and maneuvered him to the bottom bunk. "Sit."  He did.  "Good, ground rules."

Alvarez spoke up before Ryan got a chance to in a sharp voice, "Rule one, I get fucked."

"Hey, you had the decision kitten."

"Yeah, like I had much of a choice."

"Fine."  He moved quickly, lifting himself up to his bunk.

Miguel frowned and stood, looking at him.  "Fine?"

He nodded without looking at him, "Our deal.  It's off if its gonna be more trouble than its worth.  You can move back in with El Cid tomorrow and we'll forget about it."

Before he could answer the call for lights out was made and Oz went dark with the exception of a few emergency lights.  "You can't be serious Ryan."

"Why not?"

"Ryan, I can't- El Cid, the Latinos-"

He gave him a merciless sneer, "It was your decision."

Miguel cringed at the logic and cursed himself, Ryan and all of Oz in his head.  "I- I can make it worth it."  He continued to ignore him, "I'm sorry, I won't talk back anymore I swear, I'll be good, I can make it worth it."

That grin again and then, "Prove it, prag," and with one swift moment he was off of his bunk, standing next to Miguel.  "Come on kitten, get down on your knees."

He nodded demurely, but before he could go down O'Reily grabbed his arm and pulled him to the space between the bunks and the wall, putting it to Alvarez's back.  "Go on."

He stared, confused, until Ryan motioned vaguely behind himself, "So no one can see."

He nodded again, an edge of gratitude in it as he slipped gracefully to his knees.  He took a deep breath, steadying himself before reaching up to undo the other's pants.

Beecher heard the bunk below him shift as Chris moved around.  "What are you doing?"

"Watching."

He moved so he could look down at Keller and saw him on his stomach looking out of their pod and he mimicked the position.  "Watching what?"

"O'Reily and Alvarez."

He frowned, "Leave him alone."  He met Keller's eyes nearly upside down from his vantage point on the top.  It was a good view to look at as the corner of his mouth turned up.

Keller gave him his patented leer.  "Why don't you come on down here and make me?"

Giggling softly as he climbed down and into Chris's arms he sighed contentedly, already forgetting the other two.

Ryan barely contained his groans as Miguel worked and knew instantly that getting fucked wasn't the only thing he had been doing for El Cid, the boy was a pro.  It didn't take long; he couldn't even remember the last time his dick had been in anything besides his right hand.  "I'm gonna cum-"

He wasn't sure what to expect, but it wasn't that Miguel would swallow or that afterwards he would lick him clean before tucking him back in his pants.  He continued to kneel there, head down submissively while Ryan caught his breath.  "Damn."

He didn't look up, but spoke softly, "Our deal?"

Ryan felt guilt stab through him, he wouldn't have really pulled their deal and he knew Miguel would fold.  He pulled him to his feet.  He moved his hand to cradle the back of Miguel's neck and pulled him forward till their foreheads rested against each other's.  "Our deal is a go, don't worry kitten, I'll take good care of you."  He pulled back and motioned to the bed, "You should get some sleep."

He nodded, "I just have to-"

"Brush your teeth, go on.  We can talk about the ground rules."  He lifted himself deftly up onto his bed and sat with his legs swinging.  "Here we go kitten, my word is law.  I don't care what is going on or where we are, if I say jump you say how high.  If you have a huge problem just respectively ask me if you can talk to me and say please.  The big thing is don't give me a reason to have to do anything considered punishment by making me look bad in front of other people, cause I will do what I have to.  Remember, your disobeying me makes me look weak, and if I look weak then you don't get the same level of protection.  As for during free time, for these first couple days you should stay by my side, follow me around and all that crap.  Once everyone knows the score then we can relax on that.  Oh and I want you to move from the infirmary to the kitchen.  Questions?"

He turned and spoke carefully, "When Beecher and Schillinger did this, there was things he made Beecher do and-"

There was a sound of disgust from O'Reily, "Yeah well I don't really plan on using that stupid Nazi fuck as a role model.  Hell Beecher didn't deserve an ounce of what that fuck did to him.  Poor kid, came in here all helpless and clueless and fell right into Vern's lap, literally."

Alvarez watched him carefully, realizing that Ryan genuinely cared for Beecher.  O'Reily must have realized how obvious it was too, cause he added, "Not that I care."

He couldn't help the smile that tugged at his lips, it reassured him that Ryan cared about Beecher, but he forced himself back to what he was going to ask, "Well that aside there was the... makeup thing and the boot licking thing."

Ryan shook his head, "Don't worry kitten, I don't plan I doing anything like that, not to mention I'm sure you would look just terrible in drag."  He winked.

He hesitated and then answered, "Hell, I know one thing, no way I could look worse than Beecher."

"Come here."  Alvarez moved towards him to stand between his legs.  "It's not gonna be equal, you're gonna be my prag but I don't plan on being cruel, understand?"  He hesitated, so unlike himself.  "Cause listen, I care."  He wrinkled his nose at the admission, "Understand kitten?  This has more to do with than sex, power or protection, okay?"

And it was true; he could hear it in Ryan's voice.  He might not have believed if there wasn't the edge of anger in his voice, angry that it wasn't simpler.  "How long have you cared?"

He sighed, "Since Cyril was here and get raped – I've – I've taken an interest in people who are being abused, you especially.  I was curious about all their problems – I was worried bout yours."

He reached up to gently touch his face, "All right kitten, enough questions, you should get some sleep."

Alvarez gave a half smile, "You gonna keep calling me kitten?"

He gave his patent smile before moving all the way onto his bed, "Yes."


	3. Chapter 3

Morning came too soon for Ryan’s taste. He hit the floor and looked at Alvarez already awake. “Morning.”

He gave him a tired look, “Morning.”

“Come on, get ready. I want to talk to McManus before breakfast. I want you out of the infirmary today and in the kitchen with me.”

“Yes, sir.” Ryan hesitated but didn’t correct him. It was to be expected that he would call him sir or something like it, at least for a little while.

 

Murphy frowned, “You both wanna see him at the same time?”

Ryan nodded, “Yeah, simple matter really, just requesting a job transfer.”

Murphy nodded, “All right, go on up.”

“Thanks Murphy.”

They stood waiting for him to call them in and Ryan watched as Miguel paced, eyes darting around. “You okay?”

His head jerked up, startled, “Yeah, uh, sir.”

Ryan reached out and snagged him by the arm, pulling him to him, against his body. “Hey, it’s gonna be okay kitten.” He wrapped one arm around his waist even as he shifted so his body and the wall hid Alvarez from anyone looking. He moved his other hand to the back of the other’s neck and pulled him forward until their foreheads touched. “I know its gonna be hard kitten, but you don’t gotta worry anymore, I’ll take care of everything, all right?”

A cough brought their attention back to the office and McManus standing in the doorway, looking amused. “You guys got something to talk to me about?”

He didn’t break eye contact with Miguel, “Yeah.” He gave him one more encouraging smile as they headed into the office.

“What do you want O’Reily?”

“Miguel wants to move to the kitchen.”

“Then why doesn’t Miguel ask?”

Ryan nudged him and he hesitantly spoke up, “I wanna move to the kitchen.”

“Why?”

He hesitated, “Just for a change, I’ve been in the infirmary since I got here,” his mouth quirked, “literally.”

He nodded, “All right, it shouldn’t be a problem,” that seemed aimed at O’Reily, “you can start today.”

Ryan nodded, “Thanks McManus.” He took hold of Miguel’s arm and walked towards the door.

“Alvarez, I wanna talk to you alone for a minute.”

He glanced at Ryan who frowned but nodded and then headed out. He turned to look at McManus. “Yeah?”

“Is there something wrong Miguel?”

“What makes you think that?”

His mouth tightened in anger, “I don’t know  _kitten_ , why don’t you tell me.”

Again a flush covered his face and he found himself averting his eyes, “Ever heard of a nickname, McManus?”

“So its what, your new nickname? Everyone in Oz walking around call you kitten, Alvarez?”

“Okay, okay, what do you  _want_  McManus? Want me to say that only O’Reily calls me that? Want me to say what the exact dynamic of our relationship is? Want me to tell you what I do after the lights go off in exchange for protection?”

There was a pause, “You don’t have to do that Alvarez. If in exchange for helping you, Ryan is having sex with-“

His head jerked up at the pity in his voice, “There’s no fucking in Oz McManus, you know that. Are we done?”

He gave him the patented, ‘I would help you if only you would let me’ look and sighed, “Yeah Miguel, go ahead.”

He stomped out of the room in something embarrassingly close to a huff, only to come face to face with an angry Ryan. “What the  _fuck_  was that about?”

He flinched at the anger and spoke huffily, still mad at McManus, “Chill the fuck out, it was nothing O’Reily.”

He didn’t see the backhand coming, but felt it as his head snapped to the side. The impact was loud enough that those down in Em City heard it and looked up to watch the proceeding. He leaned in close to him; “You don’t get to talk to me like that.”

He kept his eyes down, in submission and shock. “Yes, sir, sorry sir.”

“And don’t you fucking forget it.” He turned abruptly, heading towards their cell.

Shock froze Miguel in place, embarrassingly leaving him to have to trot to catch up. He hung back though, as Ryan seemed pissed. He slammed the door of the pod and gave a hard shove to the beds, making them bang against the wall. There were a few more moments of rage and then he seemed to realize that Miguel wasn’t in the pod. He stopped and looked at him.

Alvarez was standing outside the pod; arms wrapped around himself, shoulders hunched making himself as small as possible, obviously scared.

“Shit.” He opened the door to their pod and spoke harshly, “Get the fuck in here!” He jumped as if he had been shot and then hurried into the pod. Ryan shut the door and turned his back to those in Em City so they couldn’t see his expression, only Miguel’s scared one.

“This is what I was talking about Miguel, if you mouth off like that I have to hit you and I don’t wanna fucking do that!” He moved forwards and gripped the bottom of Miguel’s shirt and pulled it up, “Come on kitten, get undressed. We’re gonna take a shower.”

“A Sh-shower?”

“Well we’re not going to work without a shower – get undressed and hurry.”

He got to work on his own clothes, wrapping a towel around his waist and looked to Miguel who was still undressing. “What is taking so long?”

He avoided his gaze, “Nothing, sir.”

Ryan leered at him, “Worried about what I plan on doing in the shower?” His voice was mockingly seductive, “Are you worried about being on your knees or about bending over? Reaching for the soap?”

He finished getting undressed and wrapped the towel around himself before forcing out, “yes, sir.”

“Exactly kitten, we’re just gonna shower, but they’ll think its more, give them a little blood and they’ll back off even more, lets go.” He turned and head out.

Miguel followed him with a mumbled, “Yes, sir.” It wasn’t as bad as it could have been, it was too early for anybody but kitchen crew to be up and around, and even those were half-asleep. They headed off to the kitchen.

In retrospect, O’Reily thought, he shouldn’t have put Alvarez on the line, for the same reason that he himself  _was_  on the line. It gave him a chance to have contact with every person in Oz, and likewise it gave every person in Oz a chance to make a comment to Alvarez and he could see the effect it was starting to have on him.

He called up one of his workers to take Alvarez’s place and pulled him aside, “Listen, get your food and go sit down, ok?”

He looked around the cafeteria and met more than a few hostile faces, “Where?”

Good question, the Irish were all working, he couldn’t sit with the Latinos, where could he put him? Beecher’s voice broke into his thoughts, “Hey O’Reily, he can come sit with Keller and I, we’ll keep him company.” It was left unspoken that they would protect him to.

“Hey, thanks Beecher, I’ll be with you guys in a minute.”

“No problem O’Reily. Come on Miguel.” He waited while the other got his food and then headed towards the table where Keller already sat.

Miguel felt ridiculous following Beecher around like a puppy, but he was glad for the intervention. He couldn’t stand being on the line anymore, being the butt of every joke, but he really didn’t have a safe place to retreat to. He found himself gratefully sitting down next to him. “You okay Miguel?”

He looked suspiciously at Keller, “Yeah, fine.” He realized that he was snapping again and quickly looked down at his food, poking at it with his fork, suddenly not very hungry.He felt someone standing over him and looked up, expecting and maybe even hoping for O’Reily. He did not like what he saw.

He tried to be nonchalant and spoke without looking back up from his food, “What do you want Guerra?”

He shoved him forward, his face just inches from hitting into his food, “Well I was thinking that maybe since you are giving it up to so many, maybe you wouldn’t mind doing me?”

His hands were braced on the table, keeping himself from being shoved into his food and he didn’t have a free hand to defend himself with. He felt more than saw Keller stand up and grab Guerra’s arm. The pressure eased on his back as Chris forced Guerra backward, “Hey,  _ese_  why don’t you just keep moving on before there’s a problem.”

Guerra glared at him but headed out, but not before adding a snide comment to Miguel, who kept his head down, ashamed. He glanced at Beecher who was eating his food with an amused look on his face, looking at Keller. Chris grinned back at him, making Beecher mumble something that Miguel couldn’t hear. He spoke up, “Uh, thanks for the, uh, help.”

He never took his eyes off Beecher, “Yeah no problem, a friend of Beecher’s and all that.”

Miguel shook his head, who would have thought that anyone, even two guys, could find that kinda love in Oz.

A body suddenly was pressed against his side and a candy bar was shoved into his view. He looked up to meet O’Reily’s grin, “Eat it, you could stand to put on a couple pounds.”

Softly, “Thank you sir.”

O’Reily shook his head, “I can’t stand that crap, you can drop the sir whenever we aren’t around other people or unless I say otherwise, got it kitten?”

He nodded and went back to eating his food. It was a nice change to have a person on both sides of him, to not be the leader, to have someone else protecting his back. That kind of safety could almost make it seem worth it to be a prag. Almost.


	4. Chapter 4

When the food was gone Ryan motioned to the side, "Kitten, why don't you take our trays up, atta boy."

Keller looked to Beecher with a puppy dog look, "Wanna bring ours up to baby?"

He wrinkled his nose, "I don't have to."

"No, you don't, but I'd appreciate it."

He grabbed them, "Fine but I wouldn't have to if I didn't want to."

The two headed towards the tray deposit, talking quietly.  Ryan nodded towards them, "What's that about?"

Keller smiled, "Its complicated, we're together but he's not my prag.  He does what I say though, well, sometimes, kinda."  He shrugged, "But it works for us."  He leaned in close to O'Reily, "But it won't work for you."

He frowned at him, "What are you talking about?"

"You and Alvarez, you're treating him more like you're his boyfriend than his owner."

"How so?"

"Every time you show your power, you hide it from others, you have to show everyone whose boss, I mean it sucks but no one ever questioned what Beecher's place was with Schillinger.  You get what I mean?"

His anger was showing, "So what?  You think I should have him lick my boots, maybe tattoo a shamrock on his ass?"

The muscles tightened along Keller's arms as he repressed a return anger.  He spoke through clenched teeth, "You know that's not what I meant, no one deserves that, and I wouldn't say that kinda crap that happened to Toby was good.  But the fact remains – Alvarez has got a couple of screws loose – unless you show that you got him tamed, you're gonna look weak."

O'Reily took a deep breathe before talking, "Alright, I'll take it up a notch, I'll stop shielding him – alright?"

Keller tilted his head as he looked at him hard, "O'Reily – are you controlling him or pretending to?"

"I'm controlling him."

"Doesn't seem like it," he sneered.

"Watch me," he nearly growled and headed in the direction of the two.  Keller followed, a grim smile on his face.  He didn't want to set O'Reily off on Alvarez but as him and Beecher had talked about, it had to be done, for both their sakes.

Miguel turned around, an easy smile on his face and was knocked flat on his ass.  O'Reily glared down at him, "Come on prag, get your ass up and moving.  Now."  He left, without looking back.

Beecher moved to help him up but Chris grabbed him roughly by the arm and yanked him away.

"Let go of me."

"No Toby, just keep walking got it."  He gave him a small shove and Beecher glared at him but nodded and stomped off.  Chris sighed and rolled his eyes and followed him quickly out of the cafeteria, "Hey – Tobe – come on."

Miguel glanced around him in confusion and embarrassment as he climbed to his feet.  He moved in to a sprint to catch up.  "Hey – Ryan."

He stopped dead and Miguel ran into him, "You better fucking call me sir and walk behind me.  Got it?"  He turned around and kept going before Miguel could answer him.

"Yes, Ry- S-sir."  He slowed down and followed a few steps behind, his head down.  O'Reily headed towards the common room and sat down.

"Go do my laundry and after that maybe you can watch TV.  Go on, it's not going to do itself."

Miguel slowly put the clothes in the washer and then leaned against it, hunching his shoulders protectively.  He watched the door and found himself happy to see Beecher appear with his own laundry.

"Laundry duty, huh?"

Miguel shrugged and then took a step back suddenly when Beecher moved close, "Chill Alvarez, just moving to the washers, no need to jump."

They worked silently for a few minutes and then, "Has he fucked you yet?"

"Why don't you just-"

"Fuck off?  The phrase is getting old Alvarez."

"Well it's not my fault – I just wanted-"

"Alvarez – you need to get a lot less defensive."

"Why cause you are?"

"No cause I know Ryan likes his girls friendly."

He heard him leave and Beecher shook his head, he wasn't so sure Alvarez could handle this.

An hour and a half later Beecher stopped by Ryan's room with his laundry, "Here's your laundry, your boy got angry and took off."

Beecher barely got out of the way as O'Reily took off to find him.  He found him under the stairs – on his knees.  "What the fuck?"  Standing above him was a petty drug dealer.  He grabbed Alvarez by the back of the shirt and knocked him on his ass.  He looked to the dealer who looked afraid, "What was he getting?"

"A- A joint."

He snatched it form the guy, "You're lucky I'm not gonna do more to you for dealing on my turf with my property.  Now get gone."

With the other gone he looked down at Alvarez and wished the others had long enough hair that he could pull it.  "Get up."

"O'Reily."

"You call me sir.  Which guard is on duty?"

"Murphy."

"Perfect.  Get back on your knees."

"But Ryan-"

He hit him with a closed fist making his head snap back.  "It's sir, bitch and don't be complaining – you just came from your knees."

Alvarez did as he was told – a pitiful look on his face.  "Close your eyes, hands behind you back."  He did it.  "Now open your mouth."  There was a slight hesitation and then he did.  "Good girl."

He unbuckled his pants – he wasn't hard and he wasn't in the mood so he knew it would be a little difficult.  He worked on himself until he was almost full and shoved into his mouth without any warning.

"Don't you move your fuckin hands." He put one hand on the back of Alvarez's head to control his movement even more.

He heard Alvarez gag as he thrust into his mouth, and it didn't bother him in the least.  He was beyond pissed, and he also realized that what the others was saying was true if Alvarez thought he could take off and suck someone's dick for a joint.  Or if a drug dealer as small as that one could think he could use his property.

"You're gonna learn your fucking place."  He felt himself about to cum and pulled out of Alvarez's mouth and held his head still.  He realized what Ryan was gonna do, Ryan could tell cause Alvarez flinched.  He stroked himself a few times before coming on his face.

He angrily put himself away.  "Get up," He raised his hand – "No.  You can wash it off in our pod."

 "But sir-"

"Now- it wasn't a request."

"Yes, sir."  He got up, cum covering his mouth and chin.  Ryan stopped him before he left from under the stairs.  "Lick your lips."

He did without hesitation, now in the mindset of pleasing Ryan.  "Good, no move it, I'll be there in a minute."  Ryan walked away without even looking back.  Alvarez ducked his head, hurrying to wash up – to be away from everybody.  In his pod he quickly washed his face off with soap and water and then pulled his shirt off as it had cum on it.

"Oh, A strip show."

"Guerra, what the fuck do you want?"

"Interesting choice of words."  He moved into the pod, "Where's your owner, huh?"

"O'Reily's around – just outside."

"Well he'll be able to stop me then, won't he?"

He hit him across the jaw with his fist, making Alvarez stumble.  The left hook knocked him off his feet.  He kicked him in the side and then leaned down, "Look at you – a fuckin maricon, a prag."

He went to hit him again but O'Reily pulled him off.  Alvarez sat up and watched Ryan repeatedly hit Guerra.  He threw him on the ground and then kicked him hard.  He continued to beat him until the guards pulled him off and dragged him to McManus's office as he screamed, "That's what happens to anybody that fuckin touches what's mine!"

McManus sighed as he looked at O'Reily, "You should be sent to the hole."

"He attacked me first McManus."

"He attacked you?"

"Yea."

"Guards say he attacked Miguel."

Ryan hesitated and then smirked, "Fine, he attacked my property first – you know how this works McManus."

"That alone could get you put in the hole – you think you're helping yourself?"

"Gonna leave Miguel all unprotected?"

"I'll let you off this time Ryan – but only thing time."

"Thanks McManus."

He strutted out, wondering if McManus realized how much of a tool he was.  He headed to his pod, as his men informed him that Guerra was off to the infirmary.  "Good.  I'm heading to my pod."  He had a brief worry about what their response to him having a prag might be – but it actually gave their morale a boost to have the former Latino leader as an Irish prag.

He headed in and saw Miguel curled up on the bottom bunk – looking scared.  He put his hand on his shoulder and he jumped. "Ry-ryan!"  He flinched, "Sorry, sir."  

"Are you okay?  Did he hurt you?"

"You're not in the hole?"

"No – are you okay?"

"Please don't be mad at me sir."

Ryan stopped and looked at him, he had a shiner and the whole side of his jaw was bruised and swollen.  "Kitten – I'm not mad – are you okay?"    

"Just a little bruised sir."

"He got sent to the infirmary.  I told you I would take care of you, I was only a little late."

"I got shanked the first day I was in Oz."

"Yea – I heard."

"I haven't stopped being afraid since."

"Yea well, what?"

He spoke quieter, "I've been scared since."

Ryan looked at him seriously – realizing all the interactions – everything Miguel had done – he had done in fear.  It was good to be wary in prison, but fear was a whole different thing.  "You realize what you're saying?"  He sat down on the bed next to him.

He looked at Ryan's chest, not looking him in the eyes – "All the time Ryan – I'm scared, of being on my own or getting killed, getting shanked again, getting raped.  All the time Ryan, I can't handle it anymore."  He looked down at his hands, "I'm starting to feel safe here, with you, but if you're gonna drop me like Schillinger did with Beecher – I won't make that."

O'Reily couldn't help the smirk, "What, you asking me to go steady?"  He laughed quietly at his own joke.

"Sir?"

Ryan ran his hand over Miguel's barely there hair, "Don't' worry Miguel – I'm gonna be here for a long time – no reason its not with you under me."  He almost winced at the prag reference, but Miguel's place had to be maintained and reinforced.

Miguel didn't really react – his body showing reluctance with the answer, "Yes sir."

He didn't look convinced, "You want a more permanent decision Miguel?  Maybe a tattoo on your pretty little ass?"  He had only been kidding around but Miguel's reaction was very positive.

"Really?"

Ryan looked at him for a moment, "You want a tattoo Miguel?"

He must have realized Ryan hadn't been serious because his face turned red, "Of- of course not."

"You do, you know you can't go back from something like that."

"Like I can anyways.  I mean, look at Peter Schibetta, I don't want to end up in the pysch ward."

"Alright then Miguel, we'll get you a tattoo.  A fucking shamrock on your ass, alright?"

"Irish property?"

"Yes, but  _my_  property mostly.  All mine."  Suddenly he grabbed the back of Miguel's neck, "My fucking property, mine."

He tensed a little at the abrupt movement, flinching back.  "Yes sir, your property sir."

"You should have a tattoo – a brand.  Make sure everyone knows who owns you."

"Okay O'Reily."  He was a little nervous by the sudden change in attitude – the sudden intensity.

"Tonight – I will tonight and then, then I'll make you mine for real.  Understand?"

He looked at him, and for the sake of his dignity he refused to acknowledge the warm safe feeling in his stomach, or the joy he felt at Ryan's possessive words.  "Yes sir."

Ryan kissed him suddenly and harshly, nearly splitting his lip open against his own teeth.  He quickly opened his mouth to allow Ryan's tongue in.  Ryan took full control of the kiss and Miguel relaxed his muscles, giving full control over.  After a few moments Ryan pulled away and grabbed him by the chin.  "I gotta go get stuff for tonight – stay nearby either the Irish or Beecher and Chris.  I don't want you getting hurt."

"Yes sir, where is Beecher?"

"I think he's upstairs, want me to bring you there?"

Two weeks ago he was a boss – he gave orders – he had been a bad ass and now... "Yea."

"Alright."  He waited for Miguel to leave the pod and the followed him out.  He walked across the floor his hand on the back of Miguel's neck possessively.  When they got to the other's pod Chris was gone – but Beecher was there putting away the laundry.

"Beecher, I have some things to do so I'm gonna leave him here.  Okay?"

"Sure O'Reily."

"Thanks Beecher, where's Keller?"

He wrinkled his nose, "Somewhere away from me."

"Trouble in paradise?"

Beecher glared at him and he smirked back before he left.  He headed back down and saw Chris playing cards.  "What's wrong with Beecher?"

He snorted, "I dunno, he's pmsing or something."

"Well, I left Alvarez up there with him, they can't bitch to each other."

"I'll keep an eye on them – I would anyways – you know how Beecher can get."

"Okay, thanks.  I'll be back."

Miguel stood just inside the doorway quietly, "Sorry about earlier in the laundry room."

He glanced at him and gave him a half feral smirk.  "Remember when Schillinger made me wear make-up and you called me a maricon?"

He looked down, "Sorry."

Beecher looked at him, "Is your jaw okay?"

He put his hand to his jaw absently.  "It's a little sore."  He looked in the mirror and was shocked to see how badly it looked; he looked like somebody that was beaten down.  He moved slowly into the room – sitting on the bottom bunk, "Can, can I ask you a question?"

"I guess."

"The – the swastika on you – how bad did it hurt?"

"You have tattoos Miguel."

"I didn't get them in prison – or on my ass."

"Why do you even need to know?  It's not like you're getting one."  He laughed – Miguel didn't.  "Right Miguel?"  He was looking at his hands, "Alvarez!"

"Maybe."

"He's gonna brand you – you're gonna let him!?"

"Not much choice Beecher."

"There's always a choice – always.  You realize this makes you permanently his property, I mean some even still consider me Aryan property."

"Makes him responsible for everything though."

"You want it, don't you?"

He wouldn't look up, "Of course I don't."  The words lacked conviction though.

Beecher watched him for a few moments, "It hurt a lot.  It will probably be like mine, a brand and not a tattoo, right?"

"I don't know."

"It shouldn't hurt you as much – I'd never gotten a tattoo before and O'Reily will probably be more gentle wit you than Schillinger was with me."

"After the tattoo – he's gonna – we're gonna-"

"After El Cid, I'd hate to be blunt but you should be used to it by now."

"So it never gets better?  It always hurts like that?"

"How long has he been fucking you?"

"About 2 months."

"And it's still as bad?  Does, does he use anything?"

"What do you mean?"

Beecher ducked his head a little, almost embarrassed by the conversation, "Like you know, lube or something."

Alvarez looked up, "No."

Beecher frowned, "Things will be better with O'Reily, you can trust me on that."

He watched him for several moments, "Need help with anything?  I can help."

"I got everything covered, thanks though."

"I'm gonna go, can I go?"

Beecher looked at him, "Why wouldn't you be able to?"  
     "I don't know, just, ya know..."

"I understand.  Maybe ask Chris's permission for things – not mine.  Did O'Reily tell you to stay here?"

"He told me to stay near either the Irish, you or Keller."

"So where are you going now?"

"To watch TV."

"With who?"

"I'll ask Timmy to watch it with me."

It bugged Beecher to picture Alvarez begging that little prick to watch TV with him.  "Tell Chris to – tell him I asked him to."

"Alright, thanks Beecher."

He headed down and towards Chris, when he got to the table and sat down in an empty chair.

He glanced at him, "Need something Alvarez?"

He looked around to make sure no one was around, "Wanna go watch TV?"

"Why?"

"O'Reily told me to stay with you, the Irish or Beecher.  Beecher said you would watch TV with me so I didn't have to ask Timmy."

"Yea well, Beecher can blow himself."

He stared at him for a moment in shock, "Wh-what?"

He glanced at him, "I'll go."  They got up and headed for the TV.

"Thanks Keller."

"Is Beecher still angry?"

"I dunno.  He seems a little miffed."

"He's always angry – prissy little bitch."

"What happened?"

His temper flared, "None of your business prag."

He put his hands up, "Sorry, I didn't mean anything."

"Don't worry about it.  Is Sally on?"

O'Reily felt a jolt of panic when he didn't see Alvarez in their cell, but was relieved when he spotted him watching TV with Keller.  He walked into his pod and was immediately followed in by Beecher, "Hey Ryan."

"What's up Beecher?"

"Two days ago in the shower someone made the comment that Schillinger's mark looked good on the livestock."

There was something in his voice and he tensed his body as he looked up at him, "Where's thing going?"

"Don't forget that scar across Schillinger's eye or the extra 10 years he serving.  Don't forget Andy."

"You threatening me Bitcher?"  The moment got tense and Beecher took a step back.

"No, I'm just saying – you take away all their choices and options, even a pampered Harvard lawyer can retaliate – makes me wonder about the Latino street livestock."

"He wants it."

"I know he does.  Just – be careful."


	5. Chapter 5

Beecher headed out of the pod, exchanging a glance with Alvarez as he headed in, “Sir.”

O’Reily discreetly stuffed the bag he was carrying under his mattress – “Hey kitten, any troubles?”

“No – just, will I always have to stay with one of the Irish? Because Chris watched TV with me or I would have had to get Timmy to go with me and I realize I’m just a prag now but-“

“Woah, slow down there. You need to calm down, come here.” He headed towards him standing before him and ducked his head a little. “Are you okay? Your jaw doesn’t look too good – and you got quite a shiner.”

“I know – they’re a little sore.”

“Alright. Now, what’s wrong?”

He took a breath, “I don’t wanna have to ask Timmy to bring me to the TV.”

“I know kitten, you aren’t fond of being declawed.”

“I’m not declawed.” He pouted at Ryan.

O’Reily grinned as he pushed himself up on to his bunk and pulled Miguel forward till he stood between his legs, “Purr for me.”

He wrinkled his nose, “What?”

“You can roll your ‘r’s, you can purr. Purr for me.”

Miguel stood there for a moment, a hand on each of Ryan’s legs before closing his eyes and doing a pretty damn good impression of a purr. Ryan laughed softly and moved his hand to cop Miguel’s cheek – his thumb running over his lips. He opened his mouth – letting Ryan press his finger against his tongue – sucking on it.

“Got him going like a bitch in heat Ryan.” Alvarez pulled away abruptly, frowning at Timmy Kirk who sneered at him, “Well get along sweetie, Irish only meeting.”

“Yea, Alvarez, go sit with Chris, I’ll get you when we’re done.”

He was walking out the door when he felt someone grab his ass – he spun around, angry, and caught Timmy’s wink. “Just checking out the livestock.”

“Timmy, don’t fucking touch him, alright?”

“Sorry boss.”

“Kitten, go on, I’ll get you later.”

He looked at him for a moment, angry that he had to take that from Timmy Kirk. He walked out and headed over to the table where Chris sat, finding an empty seat. Beecher had obviously gotten over their tiff as he sat next to Chris, nearly in his lap.

“I got kicked out of the pod for the meeting.”

“You aren’t considered one of them?”

Chris looked up, “He will once he’s branded.”

“Chris!”

“Don’t get your panties all twisted alright? I’m just saying what’s true. As soon as he’s branded he’s just someone’s meat.”

Beecher frowned and went to stand up but Chris grabbed him around the waist, holding him back. “Let me go-“

“Calm down, you know you’re my meat.” He laughed softly, “Your ass belongs to  _me_.”

There was a pause where Alvarez wasn’t sure what’s gonna happen and then Beecher ducked his head a little, looking back to his cards.

He watched them playing cards, finding himself scared about what was supposed to happen later. It was so final – and good things really don’t come from that. Look at Peter Schibetta. Hell, even Beecher, sure he wasn’t Schillinger’s bitch anymore, but he might as well have been Chris’s. He was always someone’s.

“Kitten!”

He stood up and faced Timmy. “You can call me Alvarez, you little prick.”

“Oh, big words coming from the boss’s newest pet.”

“Smart ass comments coming from a half pint.”

Timmy’s face clouded in anger, “You can’t talk to me like that, prag. You’re Irish fucking property and you better start acting like it.”

“Why the fuck should I-“

“Cause I say so.” O’Reily appeared and pushed the two apart. “You give any of the Irish as much fucking respect as you give me.” He looked to Timmy, “And you, I’ve told you twice – quit fucking with him.”

“You’re choosing him over us?”

“I’m looking at that I’ve told you to do something and you’ve gone against it twice. You keep doing what I tell you not to. I’m sure they’d love a little red head in gen pop, understand?”

“Sorry Ryan, you’re right.”

“Damn straight, as for you kitten, get the fuck in the pod and sit your ass on the bed. Stay there.”

Alvarez didn’t argue, Ryan’s tone was stressed and Miguel was willing to bet something important had happened. He headed into the room silently.

Ryan waited until the pod door closed and then sat down. “Keller, have you heard about this movement the Aryans are going to make?”

Keller glanced at Beecher and then nodded. He patted Beecher’s ass, “Sweetie – why don’t you go talk to Alvarez?”

He leaned over and kissed Keller lightly, “Sure, he looks lonely anyways.”

When he was gone Ryan spoke up, “Wow, he gave in rather easy.”

“He doesn’t like talking about the Aryans, even if he wants to know what’s happening.”

“Are they just trying crap with the Muslims, or everyone?”

“Just the Muslims, I say we just stay the fuck out of it.”

“The Irish aren’t a target, things have calmed since they sent Cyril to that hospital – well – I’m sure you and Beecher always are targets though.”

“Actually, old Vern seems to want nothing to do with us. Oh yeah. Keep Alvarez on a tighter leash, Beecher’s taken a personal interest in this and every time you freak out because Alvarez toes the line – I don’t get any from Beecher.” They both laughed and picked up the cards to play a couple games.

“They’re laughing at us.”

Beecher glanced out, “He always does.”

“Doesn’t that bother you?”

“No.”

“He treats you like his prag.”

“Not exactly.”

“How so?”

“Cause he doesn’t get between my knees unless I say so.”

Alvarez thought about that, “If it wasn’t El Cid and if it wasn’t Ryan, it would be someone else. How did you get out of the loop?”

He sneered, “I bit Robson – I met Keller.”

“I remember hearing that in solitary – I thought you were fucking crazy.”

“Maybe a little – mostly just fed up.”

“I kinda understand now – wow- when I was in solitary for being a riot leader.”

“Don’t think about it too much. I mean, fuck, I was a Harvard graduate lawyer and now I’m a convicts girlfriend.”

“I don’t think I can get out of the loop.” He looked down, “I’m scared Beecher.”

He sighed, “I know you are, we’ve been over this – you gotta get a hold of yourself though, you’re weak Miguel. Don’t make it any worse by simpering.”

“What, you think I should tell O’Reily no?”

Beecher snickered, “Not unless you want him to fuck you in the middle of Em City, cause that’s the next step he is gonna take if you disobey him even one more time.”

“Well then, what am I supposed to do?”

He was going to cry or something, “Miguel, sit down okay? Hold on a second.” He headed out towards Ryan and Keller. Keller smiled and pulled him close, an arm around his waist.“Ryan, you’re about to have a panic attacked prag – you might wanna intervene.”

Ryan looked over and saw Miguel on the bed, his head in his hands. He nodded to Chris and then headed towards the room. He walked in and Miguel quickly stood up, “Yes, sir, do you need something?”

Ryan circled him, “Are you going to cry?”

“N-no sir.” He slouched a little as Ryan came eye to eye with him.

“Miguel, I’m not going to lie to you and say its not going to hurt, cause it is, but you can handle it, alright Kitten?” He touched his cheek, “Why don’t you come out with us? You wanna watch TV or just play cards?”

“Yea, with Beecher and Keller?”

“Sure, you and Beecher can be partners. When him and Keller are partners it’s like they read each other’s minds.”

“Alright sir.”

A half hour later saw Beecher and Miguel losing badly. They played the next hand, again seemingly helpless to catch them off guard. It took them nearly another half hour to realize that Keller and Ryan were cheating.

Beecher threw his hand down in disgust. “I can’t believe I didn’t notice that. He looked at Miguel, “Was he reading your cards?”

Miguel stood up, “Don’t we have to get back to the kitchen sir?”

Ryan laughed as Beecher scowled, “Traitor.”

Ryan rested his hand on Miguel’s neck, “Yeah, we gotta go make dinner.”

Miguel sat in the back of the kitchen on a counter, watching everyone move through the kitchen. He was still hassled, but it wasn’t as bad as on the line. Ryan had told him to just stay there and he was doing just that. He didn’t want to risk angering Ryan at all.

Ryan headed back with food for them both- “Come on Kitten, time to eat.”

He followed Ryan out – a little dismayed when they sat with the Irish instead of Beecher and Keller. He sat next to him, keeping downcast. He ate quickly, he never felt safe anymore eating, or being around a lot of people.

“Miguel, go get me a candy bar – get yourself one too if you want.”

“Yes, sir.” He headed towards the back of the kitchen, returning quickly. He didn’t really want to be away from Ryan for too long. He got back and took his place next to Ryan and handed him the candy bar. He smiled and ran his fingers across Miguel’s short hair.

“Thank Kitten.”

He moved slightly into the touch and realized he was preening practically. He ducked his head a little, keeping to himself until it was time to go.

And it was finally time for count. They both stood outside the door as Murphy walked down the line. He stopped in front of O’Reily. Ryan put his hand out, giving Murphy a half shake, “The Black Irish, right Murphy?” Miguel saw the exchange of money, he wasn’t stupid, and to do what Ryan wanted to do uninterrupted he would need to pay off a guard. And of course it was Murphy.  
They headed into their rooms for the night and Miguel uneasily sat on his bunk, “Ryan?”

“Yea Miguel? And its sir.”

“Right, sorry sir. I’m gonna go to sleep okay? Cause, cause we’ll probably be up a lot of the night. Is that alright?”

He gave him a grin, “Sure.”


	6. Chapter 6

He woke him up gently – he would have expected him to do it rougher than gently shaking his shoulder, "Miguel, Kitten, get up."

     He stretched again, his body was taut.  "What time is it?"

     "About midnight."

     "Oh."  He sat up, awkward suddenly.  He reverted back to how it worked with El Cid.  He reached down and pulled his shirt over his head and then his pants.

     Ryan nodded, "On your stomach with your knees under you."

     Alvarez moved to the position and took a pillow, holding it under his chest, giving his back an upward curve.  The position left his ass invitingly up in the air.

     Ryan grabbed the bag from under his mattress, dropping it on the lower one before settling between Alvarez's legs.  He placed his hand on his ass, palming it.  He had to pause a moment, almost losing control of himself.  He hadn't fucked anything in a long long time.  He stroked his ass a little, waiting until he was steady.  "Alright Kitten, this, well this is gonna hurt."  He picked up the lighter and metal needle.

     It was about an hour later that O'Reily sat between Alvarez's legs holding a cold cloth to the freshly made shamrock.  Miguel was still sniffling; he had started crying at some point.  The cloth appeared to be hurting as much as it was helping.  He lifted it to look at the mark and he was impressed with himself, it looked damn good.  He pressed around the edge and Miguel whimpered.  "Its alright, I'm done."  His tears had already started again though, harsh little sounds that made Ryan wince.

     He got out the disinfectant he had palmed earlier and dabbed at the tattoo, blocking out Miguel's whimpers.  He made sure it was clean and the covered it in a bandage, stalling until Miguel stopped making those sounds.  He sat back and then reached back into the bag pulling out the lube and condoms he had got his hands on.  He hated to do this now with Miguel in so much pain, but he  _had_  to.

     "Miguel, Kitten, I need you to spread your legs more."

     He started to and then stopped, seemingly suddenly aware of what was going on, "No, please sir, not tonight – please."

     "Push up to your knees and keep your head down."

     "Ryan, please! I'm begging you."

     "Now Miguel."

     He sighed and then did as Ryan told him, it was a position he was used to and he settled in, eyes closed against both the pain he was already in and the pain he knew was coming.

     "We're gonna get you tested, okay, for anything that cocksucker El cid may have given you.  For now I'm gonna use a condom."

     He didn't even bother to respond.  There was a long pause and Ryan sighed.  He dropped the lube next to Miguel, "Prepare yourself."  He had planned to do it himself, but he was so hard he couldn't, he just wanted to fuck him,

     "What?"

     "Prepare yourself Miguel."

     "I- I don't know what you want."

     "Miguel – what did El Cid do before he fucked you?"  He knew he was talking to him like a child, but he just wanted Miguel to get with it.

     Miguel shrugged, "Nothing- he just fucked me."

     O'Reily picked up the lube again, suddenly able to do it himself.   "Alright Miguel, its all right kitten, trust me baby."

     He had never had sex with a guy, but that didn't mean he had never played back door sports.  He just had to treat Miguel the same as any girl.  He winced when Miguel whimpered before he had even touched him.  Ryan knew the kind of damage that could be caused fucking someone in the ass dry.

     He started to prepare him slowly, just starting with one finger, stretching him out.  It took awhile to get him to relax and then he moved another finger in.  He felt for what people have told him was the prostate.  Keller had mentioned that if he wanted Miguel to get some pleasure, or at least not as much pain, he should find it.  He knew when he had found it; Miguel's entire body shuddered.  "You okay Kitten?"

     "Y-yeah, I'm.. good."

     Ryan grinned, it  _was_  a power fuck like most in prison were, but Ryan took a pride in making his partners enjoy it.  By the time he was three fingers in Miguel he was starting to push back against them.  "You ready?"  He nodded.  "Say it Miguel."

     "Yes, Yes!  Now, please sir!"

     He grinned and put lube on himself before lining up and pushing in.  He was a little gentler than he had planned on being because when he thrust hard he hit the brand on Miguel's ass, causing him to whimper.  He got a rhythm going where he could thrust hard and not hit the brand  _too_  hard.  After a few times Miguel starting moving with him and he realized that Miguel was hard too.

     He knew he wouldn't last long; it had been too long since he had fucked anyone and Miguel was hot and tight.

     "Ryan, sir?  Can I touch myself?"

     He waited, watching as Miguel squirmed, his hips trying to press against something.  He took time to consider the need he had in his dick was the same as Miguel's need, but he wasn't getting release like Ryan was.  It made him feel powerful.

     He leaned across Miguel's back, covering him and spoke in his ear, "Yea, show me how much you enjoy getting fucked by me."

     He did, reaching down to grab himself, emitting a small moan.  Ryan grinned and bit the juncture of Alvarez's shoulder, biting hard enough to almost draw blood, "Good boy."

     He stayed covering his back, liking the physical contact.  He felt when Miguel came and allowed himself to let loose.  He thrust a few more times and then he was coming too.  He stayed where he was for a minute – not moving – just listening to Miguel's heartbeat.  He felt so fucking good.

     He gently pulled out and got up to throw the condom down the toilet.  When he turned around he met Miguel's eyes and sat down on the bed next to him, gently rubbing his back.  "Wasn't so bad, right?"

     He was breathing a little hard, "No sir."

     "Alright, when you behave we fuck like this – when you don't I'll do it like El Cid, you understand?"

     "Yes sir."

     He leaned down and couldn't help but kiss Miguel; he had never fucked a girl and not kissed her.  He kept the kiss rough, not totally forgetting where or what it was about.  "Get some sleep Kitten, tomorrows gonna be rough."

     He went up to the top bunk and drifted to sleep really fully satisfied for the first time since he has come to Oz.

     He woke up to Miguel crying softly, probably an hour before count, "Kitten, you okay?"

     The crying stopped suddenly, "Sorry I woke you up sir."

     "Fuck that, are you okay?"

     "Yeah, the tattoo hurts, that's all."

     Ryan headed over to the toilet to piss and then walked back to where Miguel laid, "Let me see it."

     Miguel hadn't bothered to dress.  Ryan had put boxers on.  He peeled the side of the bandage off, looking at the tattoo.  It looked spectacular, "It looks good Miguel, very Irish."

     "It hurts like a fucker."

     He gave him a half smile and then got a washcloth and ran it under the water.  He held it again the tattoo, helping it a little.  "It won't take long to hear – Keller said you would be fine to shower today."

     "I don't want to go shower."

     "Why not?"

     "I don't want to."

     "Eventually everyone will see it.  Miguel – you're a prag now, little late to be denying it."

     "I know, but now, now I'm livestock."

     He smiled and leaned down to kiss the tip of his nose, "Not just any livestock, Irish livestock."

     "Not Irish – Ryan O'Reily's – just yours."

     "Yeah, mine."

     "Only yours O'Reily, I refuse to be passed around."

     He frowned at the wording, "You  _refuse_  huh?"

     He looked up at him, his eyes serious, "I'd rather be dead than have Timmy Kirk fuck me."

     "I'm not gonna let Timmy Kirk fuck you – or any of the Irish, unless you give me a reason to Miguel.  Because I will do what I have to."

     Miguel started to sniffle again and Ryan gently stroke his cheek, "Shh, Miguel, calm down."

     "I- I'm sorry Ryan, sir-"

     He rubbed his side and soothed him as Miguel tried to stop his tears and for the first time he realized how young Miguel looked, "Kitten, how old are you?"

     He wiped away the tears and his voice got defensive, "I'm – I'm almost 20."

     He stood up abruptly looking at Miguel and Miguel winced, "You're 19?"

     "Almost 20!"

     "Holy shit Miguel – you're just a baby!"

     "I ran the Latinos – I'm not a baby."

     Ryan sat back down and looked at him, unable to sit all the way up because of the brand, and started to feel a little guilty now – he hadn't known Miguel was so young.  "It's alright, you just be good and do what I tell you and there won't be any problems – okay?  I'll take real good care of you."

     He stayed there for a few minutes before he sighed and stood up, "It's almost time to get up Miguel – come on and try to pull yourself together."


	7. Chapter 7

By the time the lights came on Miguel was standing in boxers leaning against the bunk beds – relaxed and in control of himself.  Ryan grinned at him, oddly pleased that his prag could pull it together so well.  They walked outside for count and comments were immediately thrown their way, and almost instantly Miguel seemed to be losing it again.

     One of the new hacks walked by and sneered at him, "Who knew? If you wanted some Irish in you – I got some Irish blood."

     O'Reily stepped forward, "Fuck off."  
     "Yeah, yeah.  Just remember Alvarez, you get sick of bending over for O'Reily and I can do you different."

     "Fuck Off before we fucking sue for harassment."

     He walked off snickering and Ryan possessively took Miguel's wrist, "We're gonna shower."

     They undressed in the pod, towels around their waists and headed for the showers.  Miguel followed him nervously.

     There was a mini crowd gathered waiting to see the tattoo, gossip traveled so fucking fast in the prison.  Miguel hesitated and then followed Ryan's lead and dropped the towel.

     "Nice fucking work O'Reily."

     "Damn nice – and such a nice fucking ass to work on."

     Ryan took the compliments as he kept an eye on Miguel who faced the way – letting everyone see the tattoo in exchange for not having to look at them.  Murphy came in after a few moments and broke up the crowd – and that's when he saw the tattoo.

     Ryan wasn't surprised when as soon as they were out of the shower they were told to dress and report to McManus.  They walked in and stood in front of the desk.

     "What?  Don't want to sit down Miguel?"  He shook his head without looking up.  "Why not Alvarez?"

     "McManus, do you need something?"  

     "I'm going to switch your pods."

     Miguel spoke up before even Ryan could, "You can't do that McManus – please don't fucking do that.  I'd be screwed McManus."  He was breathing hard, his voice edgy.

     Ryan moved closer to him, putting a hand on his lower back, rubbing a little before turning back to McManus and was a little taken aback by the look on McManus's face but talked anyways, "He doesn't want to move McManus – I don't want him to move.  You want fucking honesty?  You know what's going on here and you know what will fucking happen if you move him out."

     "Yea well, I don't want a repeat of the Schillinger/Beecher episode – and that can be stopped by moving him."

     O'Reily grinned, "Come on.  Miguel isn't Beecher and I'm sure as fuck not Schillinger."

     "I'm gonna send you to the hole for a few days."

     "What the fuck for?"

     "Fucking in Oz."

     "But McManus-"

     "No.  It will give him a few days and it will give you a little time to think about that you aren't the boss around here. Guards!"

     "Shit."  He grabbed Miguel and briefly kissed him, "Stay near Keller or the Irish, don't worry, I'll be back soon."

     The guards dragged him out, leaving Miguel standing there with McManus.  "Can I go back to my pod?"

     "Let me see the tattoo."  
     He mouth fell open in disbelief, "What?"

     "The tattoo Alvarez."

     "Hey McManus, I mean... you know-"

     "It's on your ass.  I know."  He watched Alvarez just stare at him and then got up to close the blinds, leaving them hidden.

     "Now Miguel, or I'll send you to gen pop."

     "This is crap McManus."

     He grinned that stupid fucking grin, "Now Miguel."

     He sighed and unbuckled his pants and pulled them down – bending over.  Hell, and he thought prison hadn't taught him anything.

     "Do you need to go to the infirmary?"

     "No, the tattoo is fine."

     "You can get dressed.  I didn't mean because of the tattoo."

     "Then – oh."  He quickly dressed, "No, I don't."

     "Alright, you're free to go."

     He walked out quietly, heading back towards his pod, but was grabbed by two Irish and pulled behind the stairs.  They threw him against the wall and each held an arm so he was fully restrained.  Timmy Kirk walked up, "You know what happens to those that snitch, bitch?"

     "I didn't snitch on anybody."

     "Ryan's in the hole-"

     "Wait till he comes back! He'll tell you – I didn't say anything!"

     "Why should I believe a bitch?"

     "If I was gonna talk I would have  _before_  I got the tattoo."

     Timmy looked at him, "Fine, we'll wait to hear what Ryan has to say... if you suck my dick."

     The two other Irish pushed him to his knees.  He didn't fight it – he was literally labeled as Irish property, he knew that.

     Timmy moved forward and Miguel resigned himself to it until one of the other Irish, Colin, spoke up.  "I'm surprised that O'Reily is letting you."

     He hesitated and glanced at Colin, "Well... he had the Irish brand on him."

     Alvarez was pulled to his feet before he even realized it, "You don't have permission from O'Reily?"

     "Well no, but-"

     They let go of Alvarez, "Go on prag, we'll wait to see what O'Reily says but for now you're fine."

     He took a step towards the pod, "What if-"

     "There's more Irish out there – they'll be watching."

     "Th-thank you."

     "It's alright, now get gone, we gotta talk to Timmy."

     He headed towards the pod – a lightness in him – a little less worried.  He sat on his bunk, kinda tired from the ordeal.  Ryan had mentioned that the tattooing process might make him sleepy; his body was using all its energy to heal and not stay away.  His head hit the pillow and he was asleep before he realized.

      He woke to someone standing over him, and he tried to scramble to his feet.  The guy grabbed his shoulder, holding him down.  "Hey calm down, I'm Mark.  You know me."

     He focused, realizing it was one of the Irish, "Y-yes?"

     "We got a message from O'Reily not to let you out of our sight – I'm the baby sitter for the day – so get your ass up and into gear."

     "Yes, sir."  He moved to his feet gracefully, following Mark out the door.  He moved quickly and Miguel had to trot to keep up.

     "Come on prag, we're late for breakfast."

     They put him on the line, Miguel guessed because they knew what would happen.  He kept his head down and gave out the food, trying to just keep to himself.  He was doing fine until the Latinos came through the line.  Adebisi picked that moment to harass him, moving to stand directly behind him.  Miguel stiffened and he laughed, moving closer, pressing against Miguel's back and whispering in his ear.

     El Cid laughed, "You're taking it from everyone – aren't you  _Michael_."

     Before he could say anything Mark showed up and shoved Adebisi away.  "Get your ass back to work."  He looked to El Cid, "And keep the line moving."  They did.

     "Thanks."

     "Just doing my job.  Keep working."

     He sat next to Mark, pushing his food around his plate.  He knew he shouldn't  _miss_  Ryan, and he resented the responsibility of watching him being passed around like he was someone's dog.  The Latinos sat at the table next to them and Miguel felt himself getting nervous, he moved closer to Mark until they were nearly touching.  He didn't even notice the strange look Mark was giving him and when a Latino walked past him and shoved him he jumped, nearly ending up in Mark's lap.

     "Colin, get your ass over here on the other side of Alvarez."  He did and then moved Alvarez a little away, "Listen, you need to relax, okay?  I'm protecting you, all right?  Just as much as O'Reily would, so calm down."  His voice was soft and reassuring.  He glanced at the Latinos and put his hand on the small of Alvarez's back while looking for danger, "good boy."

     Alvarez did as he was told – find a certain sense of comfort in being told what to do.  He ate, concentrating solely on his food.

     He had steadily followed Mark around all day, never leaving his side and now he sat next to him while the Irish played cards.  "You know, you're like having a fucking puppy Alvarez."

     "Thanks Mark."

     "No problem pup."  Alvarez wrinkled his nose at the name and Mark laughed.

     Timmy spoke up, "Who's watching him tomorrow?"

     Mark shrugged, "I'll just keep watching him."

     "You sure Mark?"

     "Yeah – it's fine.  The pup's not so hard.  You wanna join in on this hand Alvarez?"

     "No, I'm good."

     The three days that O'Reily was gone went by rather uneventfully.  Alvarez never left Mark's side, except when in his pod.  They were in his pod, sitting on the floor playing cards when O'Reily got back.

     He grinned down at Alvarez, happy that it was almost time for count.  Mark stood up, "I'll leave you guys alone."  He grabbed Alvarez's chin, "Your ass still owes me a makeup game.  Don't you forget."

     "Okay – I'll be waiting."  He let go of his chin and gave him a playful cuff on the back of the head.

     He didn't get up and didn't look up either, "Welcome back sir."

     "They take care of you okay?"

     "Yes sir."

     "Any problems?"

     "None that Mark couldn't take care of."

     There was a pause, "So, ya miss me?"

     Miguel looked up at him with a half smile on his face, "Yes sir, did, did you miss me?"

     "Oh yeah.  It sucked being in the hole kitten.  How's the tattoo doing?"

     "Hurts, but other than that its fine."

     "I'll take a look at it later, but now I'm gonna take a nap on my bed instead of a cement floor.  Wake me up at lights out."

     "Yes, sir."

     He sat on the floor looking out the window.  He could see Mark from there, playing cards with Timmy.  He looked up and winked at Alvarez who looked away quickly, embarrassed at being caught looking at him.  He had actually enjoyed spending time with Mark and found that even if it had involved mostly following him around, it had been... nice.


	8. Chapter 8

Alvarez sat in the dark for a few minutes before sighing and moving to wake up O'Reily.  He groggily sat up on his bed and yawned, looking around.  His eyes landed on Miguel and he grinned, "Strip and get on the bottom bunk, if you want preparation do it now."  He got up stretching as Alvarez somewhat awkwardly followed orders.  He stood by the bed watching him prepare himself and felt himself starting to grow hard in his pants.  After only a few days with someone else getting him off, 3 days without it were driving him crazy.  He waited until Alvarez stopped and waited on his hands and knees.  He quickly took off his own clothes and kneeled behind him.

     He traced the tattoo, finding that it made him even harder.  He pulled a condom on, quickly rubbing some lubrication on himself.  He desperately wanted to fuck him, but it was important that he didn't hurt him.  He put one hand on Alvarez's back, in between his shoulder blades and used the other hand to guide himself in.  He wasn't nearly as gentle as he was the first time and he knew not all the grunts from Alvarez were from pleasure, but he didn't change his rhythm.  His hand traced the tattoo and leaned forward across Alvarez's back.  "You belong to me, you got that?  My property- tell me, tell me how I own your ass."

     There was a pause and Ryan thrust particularly hard making Miguel whimper, "I'm, I'm your property.  You own me."

     "Damn straight I do!"  He gripped his hips harder and thrust as fast and hard as he could.  This was about him using his prag.  He knew Miguel was hard despite that he wasn't trying to hit his prostate, but he made no move to encourage it. 

     He slowed down, suddenly wanting to make it worse for Miguel in some way.  He made sure to rub the prostate and shifted his hand to brush Miguel's ass and felt him try to shift away, but Ryan didn't let him.  He leaned across his back, he knew Miguel liked touch.

     He knew he was almost there and began to thrust hard again, beyond caring about the little games.  "Holy fuck!"  He thrust one final time, his body tensing as he dropped his weight against Miguel, panting.  He was a little dazed and Miguel's soft question barely registered, "What?"

     "Can I-"

     "No."

     "Sir, please-"

     "No."  He pulled out quickly making Miguel cringe.  "Stay on your knees."

     He got up and went to the sink, washing himself off before heading back to the beds.  He slapped Miguel's ass.  "Blow job, now."  
     He wasn't hard but Miguel understood.  He back to lick and suck on him, feeling Ryan slowly start to harden in his mouth.  El Cid had done that sometimes too.  It took a long time to get someone off by blowing them after they've come once.

     Ryan watched him work, not surprised that Miguel was still hard, he had the feeling the boy was a closet masochist.  He put his hand on the back of Miguel's head, not hurting or pressing; he just wanted to touch him.  He wasn't mad, though he knew it seemed like he was, he just had been alone for a few days and had built up some tension.  Now that a lot of that tension was gone he could relax and enjoy.  He stroked his head, "Good boy kitten."  Miguel was good at this – almost too good.  El Cid didn't know what he had lost, he was getting it like this and had given up his source, the fuck.  "I want you to jerk yourself off Miguel, but don't cum."

     He watched and Miguel hesitated but then did as he was told.  He didn't seem happy about it though.  He touched himself down his length once and had to pull his hand away for a moment, getting control of himself before starting again.

     Ryan nodded to himself, "Yeah Miguel, you like it so much you can barely contain yourself.  I think you like feeling me inside you Miguel, feeling my weight against your back."  He had to stop touching himself, too close to the edge.  Ryan realized with a start how close he was himself, how much the words had affected him.

     There was suddenly a feeling in the air that they both felt.  He pulled backwards, "On your back Miguel."  He did as he was told and willingly took Ryan on top of him.  He kissed him as they clung to each other.  Ryan fumbled for the lube, hurriedly putting it on himself before he thrust into him.  He grabbed for Miguel's knees, pushing them up.  He pressed against him hard, feeling Miguel's dick rubbing between them and he realized Miguel was whimpering, but definitely not in pain.

     He pushed his legs up until Miguel tentatively wrapped them around Ryan's waist.  He entwined his fingers with Miguel's and pressed them against the bed on either side of him.

     He watched the other body moving above him and tightened his legs, the possessive look on Ryan's face giving him a warm feeling somewhere inside.  He felt safe – he felt protected, he felt... something that felt vaguely of gratitude.  He wasn't exactly sure what, just that he knew that he didn't want to leave his side.

     Ryan caught his mouth in a kiss and Miguel willingly took the force of it.  Something at the back of his mind was bothering him, but he couldn't quite place it.  He thrust his tongue at the same time as he thrust into the smaller frame and that was when it suddenly became clear why the situation seemed so familiar; it was almost exactly the same as any girl he had ever been with.  The movement, the sensations, it was just as good.  He reached down to touch the tattoo, realizing that it made it even better because he owned him.  He owned someone like a piece of property, whatever he told Miguel to do – he would do it.  It was an exciting thought.

     He wasn't sure what Ryan was thinking about but suddenly he started to thrust harder, toeing the line between pleasure and pain.  He whimpered a little, though it stayed enough on the pleasure side that he wasn't worried.

     O'Reily leaned back a little to whisper, "It's just like having a fucking girl again- without the shopping."  He felt Miguel tense a little – he didn't like being called a girl and he smirked, "My gatita."  He leaned back a little more, slowing down his thrusts as he met slightly angry eyes.

     "Tell me Miguel, tell me you like it."

     He glared and Ryan paused in his thrusts.  Miguel pushed back without consciously deciding to and Ryan laughed, "Oh yeah, nothing could say it better than that."

     "Fuck you O'Reily."

     "That's 'fuck you sir' and I believe I'm already doing that."  He suddenly paused and backhanded him before starting again, "And watch your mouth prag."  He continued to move, he knew that Alvarez was trying not to like it, but he couldn't help it.  After a few well-placed moves the anger was gone in lieu of pleasure.

     "Do you want to touch yourself Miguel?"

     "God yes, please sir-"

     He waited a moment and then nodded, "Go ahead."

     Afterwards they lay together, chest to chest, eyes level with each other.  "Forever Ryan.  This needs to be forever."

     "Is that so Miguel, forever?"

     "If this stops, if I have to go back to... I'll kill myself, I can't go back to that."

     Ryan pulled back, a little worried, "A little dramatic, aren't you?"

     "Yes."

     He frowned and tried for an angry reaction, "The girls I used to fuck got emotional after sex too, you just over emotional?"

     It didn't work.  His voice was flat, "Yes."

     "Hey, Miguel, snap out of it."

     "No."

     He was starting to get nervous, "What the fuck is wrong with you?"

     He closed his eyes, not sure what to do with his feelings.  He knew what the problem was, he had felt... attracted to Mark and he didn't know what that should mean to him.   He wasn't gay, but he had felt the urge... he had wanted Ryan to fuck him.

     Ryan started to get up and he wanted to tell him to stay but he kept his mouth shut.  He walked to the sink but didn't look at Miguel, "What's happening kitten?"

     "What do you mean?"

     He turned around and leaned against the sink, "What's going on?"

     He didn't answer, just stared at the floor.  What was he supposed to say?  "Nothing sir, it's good to have you back, I missed you."

     "Missed me fucking you?"  He looked away quickly and Ryan grinned.  "That's it, isn't it?  You missed the sex too.  You missed getting fucked.  You missed being touched."

     "That's not it O'Reily."

     He moved closer to Alvarez, "Maybe not exactly, but you don't hate it and that's what's bugging you so much."

     He hesitated, "I...I like being protected."

     He watched him for a few moments, "Get some sleep Alvarez."

     He jumped onto his bed and Miguel waited until he fell asleep before getting up to wash himself off.  He stood at the sink looking at O'Reily.  He didn't know what to feel.  He sighed and looked out the window and saw Mark.  His back was to the wall of his pod, obviously arguing with his podmate.

     Timmy was shaking his head and Mark approached him angrily.  He said something and Mark hit him across the face.  Timmy didn't respond, keeping his eyes down.  Mark stood there for a couple moments, probably talking and then he turned around.  He met Miguel's eyes and smiled.  He winked and Miguel felt himself blush.  He quickly turned around and headed for his bunk.  He needed to get some sleep.

     He woke up before count and lay in bed thinking about what was wrong with him.  He was attracted to Mark, there was no way around it and worse, to his mind, was what he was starting to feel for O'Reily.  He knew he was excited to see him, he loved when he talked to him and spending time with him.  He didn't like where this was going, he even enjoyed getting fucked by him.  That was him now – he enjoyed getting fucked in the ass.

     For every prag he had put down, for every gay guy he had mocked as a girl, for all the negative comments he's made about girls that took it up the ass, and here he was now.  He got it on a regular basis and begged for more.

     Was this really better?  He thought about it, maybe he could handle getting fucked in the ass from El Cid; at least he didn't feel like his won outlook was affected.  At least he hadn't  _liked_  it, because really, wasn't that the difference between being raped and being a fag?

     He sighed and rolled onto his side, looking out the pod window.  He tried to attribute what he was feeling to just being grateful that O'Reily was protecting him, because he  _was_ grateful, but that didn't explain his reaction to Mark.  He covered his face with his hands, utterly confused.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a little shorter than the other chapters – because I had to either break it off there – or it was gonna be about 5 times longer – I will get the next chapter up soon!

Breakfast was uneventful except for the blowjob he gave Ryan in the back of the kitchen.  He had looked past O'Reily during it and caught Mark watching.  He had quickly looked back to Ryan.

     He was working the line a few down when Mark took the place next to him.  He glanced at him only to find him looking back and he quickly looked back down at the food, and embarrassingly enough he found himself on the verge of tears.  It was bad enough when he found himself wanting to give O'Reily a blowjob, he had almost accepted that and even could explain it, but it was a whole other game to want to give one to someone else.

     He went back to work and a few minutes later there was a hand on his ass.  He looked again to Mark, to everyone else he made sure it looked like he was just getting something, but in reality he was palming Alvarez's ass.

     He didn't say anything, just went back to his spot after a few seconds, Alvarez found himself almost painting, his body reacting to the touch and he wanted him.  Wanted to touch him – to be touched.  What the fuck?  "Sir?"

     Ryan glanced at him, "What kitten?"

     "I don't feel good, I gotta... I gotta talk to you for a second."  There was a hard on pressing against his pants that there was no way around.  He wanted, needed, to get fucked and soon.

     O'Reily signaled for his people to cover them and brought Miguel aside, "What?"

     He scuffed his feet a little, looking down.  "Can we, can we go to one of the closets or something and fuck?"

     O'Reily stared at him, a little taken aback, "What?"

     He couldn't bring himself to say it again, "Nevermind."

     "You asked me to fuck you in the closet."  He stepped towards Alvarez and backed him against a table.  He put an arm on both sides of him and stepped forward to put their bodies flush.  It was instantly obvious that Alvarez was aroused.  He had his head slightly ducked, avoiding eye contact and being the submissive little prag.  O'Reily leaned forward to whisper in his ear, "You want to be down on your stomach, holding the table, feeling me against you."  He used his legs to push Alvarez's legs slightly apart, "Feeling me against your back – pressing in your tight ass, filling you up.  So good, right?"

     He was pressing against O'Reily, so hard that it hurt.  Each whispered world had him pushing against O'Reily and panting, "Yes, yes, please sir."

     The whispered words were louder than Miguel meant them to be and a couple of the Irish looked over, snickering.  Miguel didn't even notice.  O'Reily leaned in, "Well, I'm busy right now."  He backed up quickly going back to the line while Miguel stood there, in shock and painfully hard.  He knew he should go back to the line, but he was embarrassed and angry.  It got the better of him and he took off in a huff.

     Ryan looked but before he could do anything Mark waved him off, "Don't worry boss, I'll take care of him."

     "Thanks Mark," he shook his head, "fucking drama queen prag."

     He caught up to Alvarez in the hallway and grabbed his arm pulling him into the closet.  He shoved him against the door hard enough that it made him cry out.  Mark grabbed both of his hands and pulled them behind his back, turning and pushing him down against the shelves.

     "Let me go you fucking asshole!"

     Mark laughed and reached around the squirming body to pull off his pants.  When Alvarez's ass was exposed he slapped it hard, "You know you want it bitch, quit fighting it."

     "No, stop fucking touching me.  O'Reily's gonna fucking kill you!"

     "No he's not.  Because you're not gonna tell him, understand?  You're gonna let me fuck you and if you don't let me I'm gonna tell O'Reily you asked me, the entire Irish just watched you begging for it.  When O'Reily wouldn't give it to you – you begged me."

     "Please don't Mark, please don't."

     "No O'Reily to sweep in and save you this time, right?"  He started cry as he heard him pulling down his pants, ever since this entire thing had started it was like tears were always just under the surface.  There was a pause and then a door slam, followed by a crash.  He heard someone move up behind him, but he was too afraid to turn around and see who.

     The person reached down to grab his pants, "Come on Alvarez, pull up your pants."  He did as he was told and turned to face Keller.  Past him Mark laid on the floor, holding his stomach.  "You okay?"

     He nodded, not taking his eyes off Mark, as they stared at each other.  He sniffled, "You asshole!"

     Mark pulled himself to his feet, a sneer on his face.  Keller purposely stood between them.  Mark straightened his stance, "This is an Irish issue Keller, so fuck off."

     "I'll leave, but I'm taking Alvarez with me."

     "Keller I- thanks, but I gotta stay with him."  He cringed as he said it, "But from the hallway thought, but I  _have_ to, he's one of the Irish."  He moved into the hall, followed by Chris, and waited for Mark.

     Keller frowned but gave him a once over and nodded.  He waited for a few seconds to give Mark another glare.  "Fine, but if I better see him in the cafeteria."  With that he turned and left.  Alvarez waited fearfully for Mark.  He came out and grabbed him by the back of the neck and held him against the wall.

     He looked down as Mark examined him; he realized he had broke the button on Miguel's pants.  He moved to touch his shirt where there was a tear and Miguel flinched.  Suddenly he felt bad and tried to fix the pants, but they were beyond repair.

     "Miguel, I'm sorry, it just got a little out of control."

     He didn't respond physically, "Please don't hurt me.  I won't say a word to O'Reily."

     "Miguel?"  He didn't look up, "Come on, back to the kitchen."

     They got back and Miguel didn't say a word. They were already eating and he sat down next to O'Reily, practically snuggling against his side.

     "Welcome back, you okay?"

     He nodded, not moving farther away from O'Reily.  There was food in front of him, and he vaguely wondered where it came from, but he wasn't hungry.

     "Miguel?" He kept looking down.  Ryan was stupid, he could see the torn shirt and broken pants and worse, he knew Miguel had been crying.  He reached up to rub at a tear on his cheek and leaned closer so only he could hear, "We're gonna talk about this later."

     "Please don't be angry, sir."

     "We'll talk later."  He nodded and Ryan rested his hand on his back fro a moment before he went back to eating.

     He ate slowly, and only a little, the whole situation making him uneasy.  He looked down and realized for the first time that the button was gone off his jeans.  It must have been ripped off.

     Ryan had to have known what happened.  He looked over to Mark who was whispering to Timmy and laughing.  He hunched his shoulders a little, he felt kind of trapped.  Worse, he realized that he was still hard.  Still wanted Ryan to touch him, was still even attracted to Mark.  This was bad, so very bad.  He had to be so careful with this, if he wasn't the perfect little prag – if Ryan got sick of him or he was too much trouble, he'd be dead.  He was sure he could, or even would, deny someone else.

     Ryan could see that something was going wrong with Miguel.  He let it go for now, he would talk to him later.  He glanced at him again but Miguel was looking under the table and then back up at Ryan.  He raised his eyebrow, waiting for Ryan's response.

     Ryan glanced around and no guards were watching so he nodded.  He motioned to some of the Irish to move to cover any view anyone would have.  He slipped under the table, he had never done it before, he had been to embarrassed to try it with all these people and balked.  He had willingly taken his punishment instead of this act.  He knelt between O'Reily's legs unzipping his pants.  He pulled him into his mouth, his hands resting on Ryan's knees.  He could hear the Irish talking and laughing, but it didn't bother him, he concentrated solely on O'Reily.  About halfway through he felt someone, most likely Mark; press his foot against Alvarez's ass.  The person rubbed their foot across his ass but he didn't respond to them, he actually kind of liked it.

     He concentrated on sucking; Ryan totally blocked his view of anyone else.  The foot against his ass was getting more insistent and Alvarez desperately wanted to get fucked.  He shifted away from the person and a few moments later all the Irish laughed about something.  He heard O'Reily say something about just a few more minutes.

     He didn't really understand what that was about but he knew that O'Reily was almost cumming so he concentrated just on that.  He did a little twist move that he had picked up and Ryan was cumming.  He swallowed and then tucked him back away, buckling up his pants.  That was when he noticed the guard's feet.

     He froze and lowered his head to rest on Ryan's lap.  The guard spoke, "Alvarez – get out from under the fucking table."

     He didn't move and watched the guard move towards him.  Ryan spoke up, "Hold on a second okay?  I'll get him out fine, you don't need to get so hostile Murphy."

     "Then fucking do it O'Reily."

     He sighed, "Kitten, come on out.  Got caught."

     He really didn't want to get out from under the table, but when Murphy took a step forward he moved out.  Ryan was already standing and Miguel stood up next to him as he brushed off his pants.  
    "To McManus's office – go on, both of you."


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a little longer than the others – and if Miguel's decision seems a little… off, hey what can I say. He's crazy.

Ryan nodded and pushed Miguel towards the office.  They were called in right away and stood there while McManus pretended to be finishing some work.  When he finally looked up he did not look happy.

"I don't know what to do here."

Ryan stepped slightly forward, "There is no problem McManus."

"You think I'm an idiot?"

He paused and smirked, "I don't know what you're talking about."

He looked at Miguel who was looking pretty roughed up, "Are you okay Miguel?"

"Yes."

"What happened to your pants?"

He looked down then back up and shrugged, "Don't know."

His frown deepened as he looked back to Ryan, "I don't know what is going on here but I don't like it."

"We didn't do anything McManus."

"Miguel was under the table – what was he doing?"

"I was getting my fork." 

Ryan grinned, "Yea."

"Fine, Miguel you're free to go.  I'm gonna talk with O'Reily.  Why don't you pull up a chair, I'm going to keep you in here until count."

Miguel nodded, resigned.  He moved close to Ryan.  "I'm sorry Ryan, you know what's going to happen.  I can't fight it, just promise it will be okay later.  That you will make it better."

Ryan touched Miguel's cheek, "I'll just tell McManus or Murphy."

That would hurt Ryan's reputation, snitching on someone, especially one of his own men and that was the last thing Miguel wanted to happen.  "It's okay, you can fix it later, I know you can, but I need you to come back tonight.  If this goes wrong, if there is a fight, they'll send you to the hole."

     He sighed, he wanted so bad to protect him.  "Tell him Alvarez, tell him I know.  Tell him I said to keep his dick in his pants.  We'll get everything settled later."

     "Okay."

     He headed out, straight for Mark's pod.  He knew what was going to happen, there was going to be big problems but he could take care of some of them now.  He wasn't stupid, the only reason things had progressed earlier was because Keller had stepped in, Marks would try again and eventually he would succeed and then it would be a shit storm.  Keller and Beecher would get dragged in, Ryan would have to be on edge, but he could fix it now.  He sat on Mark's bed and waited.

     He got to his pod not to long later and saw Miguel on his bed.  He grinned and walked in, "Hello sweet pea."

     "Hello Mark."

     "Where's O'Reily?"

     "Detained until count.  So, should we just head to the showers now?"

     "What?"

     "I'm gonna go get my towel and uh, other things.  I'll be back."

     He left Mark standing there.  He repeated his reasoning to himself, this was gonna happen anyways.  This  _would have_  happened anyways.  At least this way it wasn't a rape in a back closet somewhere and this way wouldn't cause the same kind of trouble in the Irish as the other way would and maybe if he kept repeating all that to himself he could ignore the voice that said there was more to it than that.

     He got back in his towel and waited for Mark to go, following him, eyes diverted.  There wasn't anyone in the shower and as soon as they were out of the guard's line of vision Mark pressed Miguel against the wall.  He turned on the shower and pulled off the towel and noticed something fall.  He picked it up, realizing it was a condom.

     It bothered him for some reason, Miguel stood there passively facing the wall, his hands braced and toting a condom.  Something about it was too passive.  He wanted to fuck him but he wanted him a little more...lively.  He smacked his ass hard, suddenly, making him jump.  "Come on prag, I wanna hear you moan like a bitch in heat."

     His back muscles tightened, but he didn't fight back.  Mark shrugged and moved closer to him, pressing against his back, "I'm going to fuck you and you know what?  I think you want it."  He cupped his ass as he had in the cafeteria and it had the same response.

     He felt himself growing hard and he tried to fight it, not wanting to admit that a part of him wanted it.  He was about to say something when Mark pressed against him again he couldn't help but press back.  He made a pleased sound and Miguel remembered what he was gonna say suddenly, "Please, just please use the condom and the lube."

     He had planned on using them the minute he saw them but he rubbed up Miguel's side and whispered in his ear, "Why should I?"

     Alvarez didn't want to get a repeat of dry fucking and the thought alone made him whimper, "Because, please, O'Reily already knows what you're doing, but he might let it go but not if you hurt me."

     He hesitated, of course he had known on some level that O'Reily knew but hearing it said made it that much more tangible.  "Alright, I don't want to break the boss's new bitch."  Alvarez had leaned back to talk and Mark roughly pushed him back against the wall, and he hissed as the cold tile pressed against his skin.  The lube was pressed into Miguel's hand and he repressed a moan as Mark's hand rubbed against his dick, "You want to use the lube – you prepare yourself."

     He did, as quickly as he could; he knew that Mark wasn't likely to wait a very long time.  He cursed his body again; it was hot and eager to get fucked.  He really wasn't done preparing himself when Mark pushed his hands away and shoved into him.  It wasn't as bad as when El Cid had fucked him but it sure as hell wasn't as good as Ryan, although he wasn't so sure if that was more the style or the person.  His hands scrambled at the wall, trying to get purchase on something.  The wall was slick and didn't give him a good grip, taking any control over the movement away from him.

     It hurt but at the same time it was so freaking good.  Every painful thrust, every blunt jab to his prostate made him groan and grow harder and closer to cumming.  He was moaning and he barely noticed when Mark pulled away and turned him around.  Suddenly he was facing Mark and it shocked him a little.  He didn't really have time to think about it before Mark lifted him up; Miguel wasn't that big and Mark worked out.  He held him under his thighs – his back against the wall.  He grabbed Mark's shoulders to brace himself as he started to thrust again.

     Face to face with O'Reily was one thing, this was different.  This wasn't for protection, and while it was by force even he couldn't argue that it was  _completely_  by force and Miguel wasn't sure what the hell to do.  He couldn't control his body though as it throbbed with the sensations.

     Mark suddenly started to thrust harder, a little erratic as he got close to cumming.  He thrust a final time, shoving Miguel hard against the wall and knocking the breath out of him.  Even through the condom he could feel Mark cumming and it pushed him over the edge as he came between their stomachs.  After a few moments of catching his breath he gently pulled out, being careful not to hurt him.  He set him down but kept his hands braced against the wall on either side of him.  "You okay?"

     He was panting lightly, still reeling from his orgasm and he almost forgot it was partially a rape.  He glared at him, "Yea, I'm perfectly fucking fine."

     He smiled, "I'm glad to hear that.  I was worried for a moment – I'd hate to hurt he merchandise because you have a fine pussy."

     He glared some more and was completely oblivious to the person walking in.  Kirk's voice startled him, "Shit Mark, you didn't."  He was laughing and Miguel felt his face heat up as he waited for Mark to join in the laughter but he looked pissed.

     He pushed away from the wall towards Timmy, "What are you doing in here?  I told you to watch for fucking guards!"

     "You said you were gonna slap him around a bit, not fuck him."

     "That's all I did Timmy."  Miguel had shakily moved out of the water and wrapped his towel around his waist.

     "What do you mean that's all you did.  You're still wearing the fucking condom Mark."

     He grabbed him by the juncture between his neck and shoulder, shoving his head down to within an inch of the sink.  "I  _said_  that's all that was going on,  _so that's all that was going on._ Now get back out there and watch the door before I decide to smack  _you_  around."  He let go and Timmy stood up quickly, rubbing his neck.  He was mumbling angrily to himself but he followed the order nonetheless.

     He waited fro him to take watch and pulled the condom off throwing it on the floor.  Someone would clean it up.  Miguel stood still next to the sinks, his towel around him.

     He reached him and yanked the towel off abruptly.  Miguel flinched but Mark tried to soothe him.  "It's alright, just, ya know, we need to shower now cause look at yourself."  He looked down at the cum on his stomach and stepped back under the spray of the shower.  Mark made sure that he was gonna stay there before turning on another shower for himself.

     O'Reily had paced the room while McManus looked down at the crap on his desk, "What is the purpose of this?"

     "It's called cooling down."

     "I'm not angry!"

     McManus raised his eyebrows at the sharp tone of voice, "Then why are you yelling?"

     "Who do you think your helping?"

     "I'm helping Miguel.  I thought you weren't gay O'Reily."

     He froze, staring at McManus, "I'm not gay.  I don't know what you're talking about."

     "But your boyfriend is?"

     O'Reily sighed and sat across from McManus, "You don't know what you're stepping into here.  You're causing more damage than you are fixing."

     "I'm doing my job."

     "Keller and Beecher are fucking – I don't see you breaking  _them_  up."

     "It's not the same."

     "No?"

     McManus gave up the premise of trying to get work done to look directly at him, "No, it's not."

     "He's better off with me, you know what El Cid was doing to him and you didn't break that up – I'm not really hurting him.  This isn't club med, it's prison and it's harsh."

     He slammed down his hands on his desk and abruptly stood up real anger in his voice, "Yea well, Beecher doesn't deserve it!"

     It took a second to sink in but then Ryan got it.  "Beecher huh?"

     For a moment he looked confused but then he realized what he had said, "You know what I meant O'Reily."

     "Yeah, I definitely do."

     "What's that suppose to mean?"

     "Well, I'm not Schillinger McManus-"

     "Maybe not, but I don't think you're any better either."

     "You want it not sugar coated?  It's not smart to have a pissed off prag.  I don't' wan the person I stick my  _dick_  into plotting behind my back, so I'm not going to be fucking him over, at least not in a metaphorical way.  Right now while I'm up here, he's down there unprotected."

     McManus eyed him, "You realize based on what you just said I could throw you away right?  Send you to the hole for a long time – send you to solitary."

     He sighed, "Yeah well, do it if you have to, but I need to get back to him down there because I promised him I would and I've already been here too fucking long.  I'm going to have enough damage control as it is."  He stopped and took a breath, "McManus – he needs me."

     Again Ryan missed the slight shock on McManus's face, he realized that O'Reily was being honest, he was risking a lot to push this issue with Miguel, the only other person he had seen Ryan care that much for had been his brother.  "All right O'Reily, unless I get a good reason, don't make is so obvious, I'll let it slide.  Go."

     He paused and nodded slightly, a bit of respect in it.  "Thank you McManus – I won't forget this."  He waited at the door for the guard's permission and headed straight for his pod.  When he got there Miguel was sitting on his bed in a towel, tear streaks down his face.  Ryan shook his head, "Fuck.  Are you okay?"

     He nodded and Ryan grabbed his chin.  "Did he fuck you?"  He avoided his eyes even though he couldn't move his chin.  "Answer me Alvarez."  When he didn't answer Ryan tightened his grip and used his other hand to point at him.  "Don't make me fucking check – did he fuck you?"

     He didn't know whether or not to tell, so conflicted.  He didn't want to cause trouble in the gang, but he didn't want to lie to Ryan.   He looked up to meet Ryan's eyes and then he didn't have to answer.  Ryan was bristling, "I'm gonna kill him."

     "Ryan, please, technically I'm Irish property and technically it's his right."

     "It's not his fucking right.  You are  _my_  property. Mine."  He was angry and realized that Miguel didn't even understand it completely.  "This makes me look bad, do you get that?  This fucking undermines me, its not just about some fuck.  I don't want you to move, understand?  Stay right the fuck here."

     "Yes sir."  He was starting to realize just how big a fuck up his little plan to fix the problem had been.

     Ryan didn't acknowledge him as he headed out.  He stopped Colin, "Get Marks.  Meet me in that closet. Now!"

     He waited and didn't say a word as Mark was dragged in and thrown down on the floor.  He looked at him, "Hello Mark."

     "He asked for it O'Reily-"

     "I don't care if he bent over and grabbed his ankles, you don't touch him, you want to go against my orders?  You think you have the balls to fuck my prag?"  He hit him with a closed fist, "You do what I say!"  He kicked him in the side, "and that's  _all_  you fucking do!"  He kicked him a few more times, until he heard a rib crack.  He nodded to the boys, "Give him a few more, make him feel it and then make sure he gets to the infirmary."  He leaned down close to him to whisper, "Let it be known, this is what happens if you touch my prag."

     He knew the boys would take care of it the way he wanted it done.  Mark had it coming; he had questioned him too much and the thing with Miguel was over the line.  He got back to his pod and Miguel was still there waiting, head tilted down.

     He knew it was coming before Ryan reached him.  He got on his knees quickly; "Ryan, I'm sorry-" He was cut off as Ryan slapped him across the face.

     "Slut."  Miguel cringed but Ryan was too angry to care.  He was sure Miguel had literally asked for it, but he hadn't done all that much to stop him either.  He didn't know exactly what his plan had been but once again, he didn't really care.  "I'm gonna fix this in more ways that one.  I took care of Marks and I have an idea of how to take care of you.  Apparently the tattoo isn't visible enough.  And tonight – tonight," he pulled him roughly to his feet holding him close, "I'm gonna fuck you into the mattress."  He rubbed his hand over Miguel's head, "Are you sure you're okay?"

     "Yes sir."

     "He didn't hurt you?"

     "Not much, no."

     "Did he use a condom?"

     Miguel looked away, embarrassed, "Yeah he did."

     "Well that's something at least."  He pushed himself up onto his bed, "McManus is gonna back off."

     Miguel nodded and looked up at Ryan, his face fiercely possessive and he just hoped things were gonna be alright.


	11. Chapter 11

Ryan whistled, "Kitten?"

     Miguel appeared from the pod and Ryan smiled.  It had been nearly two months since he had put Mark in the infirmary and had taken Miguel with a possessiveness that was almost scary.  Miguel waited patiently for Ryan to get to the pod.  He was the ideal prag – he waited there in skintight pants and a black fishnet shirt.  Ryan reached up to touch his cheek brushing it gently, then headed into the pod.

     Miguel followed, pausing when Ryan turned around and ran his thumb over the leather collar around Miguel's neck.  It had come a few days after the Mark incident.  A dog tag hung from it that proclaimed 'Property of O'Reily.'  "I love this collar."

     Miguel nodded, "I know you do."

     His grin widened, still amazed at the acceptance in Miguel's voice – he was more obedient than even Beecher, part of it the fear instilled in Miguel of what happened when he deviated from the rules.

     Ryan pulled himself away from playing with Miguel, one of his favorite things.  "What's the plan for today?"

     "Nothing big going on sir.  The Irish should be here in 10 minutes or so for the meeting."

     "Are you gonna stay?"

     "I was gonna go with Beecher and Keller to play cards."

     "Alright, but you stay with them."  He looked around a leer tugging at his lips, "How long till they're here?"

     Timmy showing up at the door, the other Irish not far behind, diffused any ideas he might have had.  Miguel gave a 'oh well' grin to O'Reily and headed out.  No catcalls followed him and no one dared touch his ass.  He passed Mark and there was a tense moment. O'Reily watched as he seemed to shake his ass a little and Ryan noticed Mark watched but when he looked back to Ryan he ducked his head and slumped his shoulders a little.  Since the two broken ribs he hadn't even said a word to Miguel.  Ryan leaned against his bunk, very satisfied with himself.  He had everything under control, his men were very strict and he had a willing ass to fuck every night – life was good.

     Life sucked.  Miguel sat across from Beecher with a hand full of cards and tried to get up the energy to play.  It wasn't like everything was bad.  If he was honest he enjoyed what he did with O'Reily.  The more he did it, the more he was on his knees, bent over his bed or on his back, the more he enjoyed it.  More and more it wasn't getting fucked by his jocker, it was having sex – making love.  He sighed and threw down his cards.

     Beecher gave him a sympathetic look and dealt the cards again.  He nodded his thanks, he confided in Beecher often.  What the problem was the fact that were other aspects.

     It was better when it strictly was prag and that's it.  He looked at the clothes he was wearing and felt a hard pit in his stomach – what was he reduced to?  He would never be caught dead in this before, but now he preened when O'Reily gave him that look of aroused approval.  He, however, despised the collar and its tags.  He wasn't allowed to take them off, even when his girlfriend came to visit him.  She had broke up with him, he tried to explain it to her, that he wasn't cheating on her.  She had believed him, she understood.  She just said she would never be with someone who was a pet fuck for someone else in prison.  He hadn't told O'Reily about it.

     He wasn't sure what he felt for O'Reily, but it had moved to somewhere beyond gratitude or fear.  He enjoyed seeing him, being with him... he enjoyed kissing him...

     "Alvarez!"

     He realized it was his turn, "Sorry, what was led?"

     "Diamonds, get your fucking head in the game Alvarez."

     "Chris, calm down, he's just a little distracted."

     "I don't doubt it.  He hasn't gotten fucked yet today, it always makes him snippy."

     He threw his cards down, suddenly angry, "I don't have to take this!"

     "Oh what you gonna do  _kitten_ , give us a hiss?  Get your claws out?"

     Alvarez took a deep breath and sat back down – this was why he hated this – he had no real way to stand against Keller.  He just had to learn to take it, "Sorry, another hand?"

     Beecher shook his head – being a prag had hit Miguel hard.  He himself had found it hard because he had been so successful on the outside but he hadn't given a fuck about his prison reputation, but Miguel had been on the top of heap, up there with all the big players.  He had stood toe to toe with O'Reily during the riot and dealings and now he got fucked by him.  He had controlled a gang and had all that power at the tips of his fingers and now what?

     Now he wandered around with a collar and dog tags on – always two inches away from getting a leash put on him and he answered to kitten.  Now when Ryan said jump he said how high, and where do you want me on my knees?  He thought that maybe it would get easier on Miguel because he followed Ryan's every order without hesitation – but Ryan never let up.  Since the Mark thing he didn't let Miguel go anywhere on his own – he had to be with an Irish or Beecher & Keller at all times.  He had no freedom in what went on and Ryan made sure he asserted his power over Miguel at least once a day, usually with some physical force, a push or a shove, a smack or tight grab, usually mixed with some sort of overtly sexual action.  Always possessive and always loud.  It made Alvarez nervous, he was always on edge because he never knew when Ryan was gonna pick a time to assert that he was the 'big boss,' if drove Alvarez to... desperate activities and god fuckin forbid that Alvarez do something he wasn't supposed to.  Miguel had went to the showers once day by himself and when Ryan realized no one was with him he had dragged him to their pod and, after smacking him around a bit, just enough to leave a few bruises, he had attached a makeshift leash to the collar and for the next 2 days dragged him around by a six inch lead.

     Miguel didn't break little rules like that anymore, even when  _he_  had been under Schillinger's thumb he had stood up to him once in awhile.  The problem was that he hadn't felt for that nazi fuck what Alvarez was starting to feel for Ryan.  He shuddered to think of what it would have meant for him if he had felt for Schillinger what he felt for Keller – it had to be a huge mindfuck, even in the one big mindfuck that was Oz.  That kind of thing could drive someone to do crazy things.

     Miguel lost another hand, putting Ryan on the back burner and concentrating on the game.  At least he wasn't always afraid anymore – sure he was usually on his toes about Ryan and when he would decide to do something, but he didn't fear for his life – didn't fear getting hurt or raped because even when O'Reily was angry – and even through he swore he would he never fucked Miguel dry.  Sometimes it was a little rough but it never crossed the line into actually painful.  The Latinos weren't a problem anymore – at least not on a physical level.

     They harassed him a bit here and there – especially dressed the way he was and he just had to let it roll off of him – Ryan wasn't going to start a war over a few mocking words and Miguel had no power to start one.

     So he took it.  He always took it.  He backed down to Keller, he looked the other way when the Latinos called him maricon, and he accepted that Timmy Kirk had the power, to a certain extent, to order him around.  He grasped on to any little bit of his life that he could control.  It was an existence, one that Miguel was forced to accept because the other choices before were limited and now were non-existent.  What would he do, put himself at the mercy of the Latinos or any of the other fucks in this place?  If Ryan dropped him he wouldn't make it an hour before someone had him face down across a table with his ass in the air.  He wouldn't have a choice.

     His thoughts were interrupted by Ryan who had approached behind him and tugged on the collar, "Hey Kitten- having fun?"

     He looked up, a smile on his face, "Yes, sir."

     "Good, good.  I gotta head to the kitchen – you gonna be good and stay with Beecher?"

     When he said it he pulled on the collar – tilting his head backwards further – emphasizing his words with force.  Miguel swallowed a retort that he wanted to give, just like he always did, "Yes, sir."

     "Good boy, I'll see you at dinner."

     "Yes, sir."  Ryan patted his head and headed out, the rest of the Irish following him.  Miguel didn't work with them anymore – he actually didn't work at all, and how Ryan managed to get that around McManus he still didn't know.  But it didn't matter, because now it was time for  _it._ He watched Keller kiss Beecher and head to the gym at the same time Ryan left, leaving him with just Beecher.

     They sat there for a few minutes and then Beecher sighed, "You're gonna get caught and do you realize what Ryan will do to you?"  He shifted uncomfortably, "I know you have your reasons but... its gonna be bad."

     He cringed, "Well if you don't tell him, he won't know."

     It was met with a frown, "I just hope you know what you're doing."


	12. Chapter 12

They walked together past the guards and towards the kitchen – which was normal enough, the guards really didn’t pay them much attention, once they had been kind of crazy, but now they were just two prags in the guard’s eyes. When they reached the library they stood outside the door and Beecher looked at his watch, “You got 20 minutes.”

As soon as he walked in the room Mark had him against the door, kissing him. Whoever was supposed to be watching the library had already been paid off and was gone. He didn’t know why he did this with Mark – he refused to acknowledge to himself that maybe – maybe he liked it. The day Mark had gotten out of the infirmary had found Miguel on his knees with him. O’Reily had moved Mark to working in the dress factory, part of the punishment, not realizing that it created a half hour gap between when all the other Irish were gone.

Beecher grudgingly covered for him out of a twisted sense of sympathy and everyday he met Mark to fuck in the library and… he loved it. He loved the feel of Mark’s hands – he loved the roughness the most though. Not because of the sex itself – but because it was different. What he had with Ryan – what he felt for him, that scared him. If he was gay he would say he was falling for Ryan, but he wasn’t gay... he wasn’t. He was distracted from his thoughts by Mark pushing him down across the table suddenly – so hard it probably bruised his hips. “ _Damn_ , my day was good – yours?”

Mark laughed good-naturedly and reached around to rub his hipbone, “Sorry – not seeing you yesterday makes me antsy.”

“I know, but don’t leave bruises – Ryan might find out.” He had to work to hide them sometimes and lately he had gotten a little lax about it – not that he _wanted_ to be found out...

“Don’t fucking bring up his name when I’m fucking you.” He touched the back of Miguel’s neck, “I hate this collar on you – well, maybe I’d like it if it said my name on it.”

He snorted, “Get your own pet and you can do that.”

“Someone has a smart mouth today.” He leaned across Miguel’s back, his voice sickenly sweet, “Any particular preferences today sweetheart?” He snickered to himself while Miguel rolled his eyes.

They had a good system worked out – Mark got someone to fuck and Miguel used it as a reminder that sex was sex in prison – to escape from the feelings he felt for Ryan. If he was having sex with Mark as well, he couldn’t want Ryan for more than pleasure and protection, that _had_ to be true, it was the only thing he could grasp onto. “Anyway you want it. Like always.”

There was an unusually long pause from behind him and he waited for a few moments before he turned to look at him, “Mark, you okay?”

He looked down at him, “Yeah – are you?” He grabbed one of Miguel’s legs and flipped him over so he was on his back. He leaned forward placing an arm on either side of him and kissed him, “On your stomach or back?”

Miguel grinned a little, “Stomach is fine.” He kissed him again and then rolled back onto his stomach. Mark unbuckled his pants and then unbuckled Miguel’s. They had gotten efficient at this and they were free of their clothes quickly. He didn’t really have to prepare him much – Miguel had learned to do it before hand in his pod – so it didn’t take that long. The condom was on quick enough and Miguel grunted as Mark thrust into him. He gripped the edge of the table tightly, taking the thrusts. “H-harder Mark.”

He complied and Alvarez relaxed a little as the thrusts became slightly painful – the only way he was comfortable with. “God Miguel – you got a great fucking ass – do you know that?”

“I’ve been told it a few time, thanks.”

He laughed again and smacked his ass. “Come on bitch, let me hear you whine a little more.”

“Oh I-“ A particularly hard thrust made him grunt, “Ow.”

“Damn straight bitch, that’s the way it goes down here.”

Despite the slight pain he was feeling he smiled – he like the banter. Never once did he forget that he was a prag – that Mark had power over him, but it was as close to equal sex as he could get.

“This can’t last forever you know – maybe we should just... tell Ryan.”

The first time he said it Miguel had nearly pissed himself, “That’s a good fucking idea Mark, cause I’m laying here thinking that I want Ryan to feel the need to beat my ass into the ground.”

“I’m going to tell him.”

Miguel pushed up; the words were kind of new. He put a hand between Miguel’s shoulder blades and shoved him back down. “Keep down bitch.”

He did, “S-sorry. You’re not gonna tell him, right?”

“Of course I’m not going to tell him – I just love the way you squirm when I threaten it.” He continued his normal thrusting, almost ready to cum. He reached down and around – jerking off Miguel with him. Not his favorite part but he knew he owed at least that much to Miguel. He was just as aware as Miguel that Ryan would kill him if he found out. He would be in more trouble that Miguel would.

When he came he thrust a final time and pulled out. Miguel reached down to finish himself off but Mark stopped him. “Maybe you shouldn’t cum yet, you know?” He held Miguel’s hand by the wrist behind his back, “Maybe if I see some eagerness to please, then you can cum.”

Miguel kept his head down – sometimes Mark got a little weird – probably because he didn’t get to fuck Miguel on his terms. Miguel made a mental note to let Ryan know that Mark might be a danger, but then again he probably already knew. “Mark – please. You know as well as I do that if you don’t let me – I can’t. So please.”

“Of course you can Miguel.”

Five minutes later had them dressed and ready to head out. Mark pulled him forwards and kissed him, he wasn’t sure what possessed him to do it but he bit Mark’s lip, inciting the other to bite his back hard enough that he knew his lip was probably swollen. Mark gave him a weird look but he just grinned back, that should probably do it. He headed out, he always went first, and met Beecher outside the door and they once again headed towards the cafeteria.

Beecher glanced at him, “So how was it?”

Miguel covered the grin, “Well, you know, doing what I gotta do to survive.”

He frowned at him, “You always try to sell me that shit, but I know you enjoy it. The only time I see you get more excited is when I see you at lights out waiting for O’Reily.” Before Miguel could respond Beecher put up his hands, “Hey wait, don’t get all in a huff though – I don’t want anyone angry.”

Miguel nodded, “Yea, I know Beecher and you are the last person I would want to fight with – I mean, the last two months...” He trailed off not sure what he wanted to say.

“Okay – enough, just be careful Miguel, you are playing with fire here.”

“I know, but it kinda spiraled out of control and now I don’t know what to do with it all. I mean I kinda want to stop it – but I’m not even sure how I would do that short of, well, I don’t want Ryan to get angry and I feel... guilty.”

Beecher stopped suddenly, “Wait, you feel guilty about it? Guilty how?” He watched Miguel’s face – he knew he felt strongly about Ryan but this – this was different. “Like – like you’re cheating on him?”

He shrugged, “yea, kinda.”

“So wait, what’s your bigger concern here? That you are going to get caught or that you feel guilty about going behind Ryan’s back and fucking someone?”

“Well I’m afraid of what would happen if he found out - I don’t want to hurt his credibility and your prag sleeping within one of your men will do that, of course if Ryan did find out...” He didn’t finish the thought; even he wasn’t sure what would happen.

Beecher started walking again but was shaking his head. “You crossed the line Miguel, not that I didn’t already think you had – but still.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You’re acting more like his boyfriend than his prag. You both acted that way in the beginning – but O’Reily is a survivor if anything and knew he had to change his approach. I guess you get the crappy end of that deal.”

Miguel was watching his feet, “Can I ask you a question?” He waited for a nod before continuing, “What I... feel... for O’Reily isn’t what you felt for Schillinger, is it?”

He couldn’t help but wrinkle his nose at the name. “Not even close – not even in the same fucking hemisphere. I wish that Aryan fucker had lost his cred... fucker.”

Miguel snickered at the tone of voice, he had never head someone sound so disgusted when talking about another human being. “Is it – is it closer to the way you feel about Keller?”

He watched the struggle on Miguel’s face and wished he could help him. “Closer than to the way I thought about Schillinger – the way you... should feel about Ryan.”

He sighed, “I couldn’t hate Ryan.” He awkwardly ran his hand over his head, “I can’t deny Ryan.”

He didn’t like the sound of that, “What do you mean?”

“Anything he wants Beecher.”

“You _have_ to give him.”

“I _want_ to give him. If he asks me – if he tells me – I’ll do anything for him.”

They had reached the kitchen and Beecher looked at him. “Maybe closer to me and Keller than I thought. We’ll talk more later.” They split off in two directions - Beecher into the cafeteria and Miguel headed to the kitchen where Ryan and the others were still serving food.

He paused for a moment and ran his tongue over the swollen lip that wasn’t entirely accidental and cringed before walking up to Ryan’s side. “Sir.”


	13. Chapter 13

Ryan glanced over at him and smiled, but it faltered.  He walked over to him as Miguel ducked his head.  Something seemed off, "What have you been up to?"  
     "I've been hanging out with Beecher."

"And if I ask him that?"

Miguel tried to stop his nervous reaction, "He'll tell you I was sir."

"What if I ask Keller?"

This was where it got touchy – Ryan had never realized before that Keller was gone for the space between Ryan going to work and Miguel joining him there.  Not that he wouldn't trust Beecher, it was just that he saw Beecher as a prag and always would.  He wasn't going to like what he was about to say, "He wasn't there – he goes to the gym the same time you leave for here."

"Since when?"

"Almost two months ago, his time at the gym shifted."

"So it's just been you and Beecher?"

"Yes, sir."

"Maybe that's not such a great thing – leaving you two without supervision.  Well Beecher is fine on his own, but you are supposed to be monitored and I'm not sure the person to do it should be a prag himself because who knows what the FUCK you get up to."  He touched his lip with his thumb, his sudden anger slipping into his words.  "Your lip is swollen.  I know that look – and I know you weren't with Beecher because he and Keller are in love or some shit like that so –  _WHO WERE YOU FUCKING?!_ "

The Irish all turned to look – but a hand motion from Ryan had them looking away.  No one wanted to fuck with him when he was this angry, he nearly growled at them, "Cover the counter!"

He grabbed Miguel roughly and dragged him into the back room, shoving him over a table.  He didn't say a word as he yanked his pants down.  It was obvious that he had been having sex.  There were already light bruises forming on his ass – due to a little too much roughness.  "How long has this been going on Miguel, and I swear to god if you lie to me-"

"About, about 6 weeks sir."

He was silent for a while but Miguel didn't dare move.  "I get it.  Since Mark got back."  He stepped away from him, "I don't want to fucking touch you.  Get the fuck out of here.  I don't care where you go – just get out of my fucking sight."

He hesitated and then stood up – pulling up his pants.  He took a step towards Ryan, "I'm sorry – I didn't mean-"

Ryan snapped.  He grabbed Miguel's by the back of the neck and his arm and spun him around again, bashing his head into the table when he bent him over.  He leaned close to his ear, "You're sorry? YOU'RE SORRY?!"  He knocked his feet apart and grabbed Miguel's pants, pulling them down again.  "Oh – you're gonna be sorry."  He had his pants off in record time and planted his feet before thrusting into Miguel.  There was a little lube left from his earlier activities – but not nearly enough.

He cried out in pain and buried his head in the bend of his arm to muffle his whimpers.  Suddenly it was like being back with El Cid, the pain almost as bad.  Ryan leaved forward again to whisper to him, "I hope that hurts you ungrateful bitch.  I should give you back to the Latinos- or fuck, how about I just make you all Irish property and then I can watch this pretty little ass of yours get fucked by Timmy Kirk.  How would you like that you little slut?"

He didn't answer – he didn't even want to consider what would happen to him – or Mark.   _Shit_ , Mark.  Ryan was gonna kill him.  He gritted his teeth against the pain- and he had never been so happy as when he felt Ryan cum.  He roughly pulled out and Miguel squealed in pain.

Ryan looked own and realized there was blood. It shook him a little – he had meant it to hurt but seeing the blood made him pause.  He pushed the feeling to the back of his mind and grabbed Miguel's pants – pulling them up.  He grabbed the back of his neck pressing Miguel to the table, "

"Go sit at our table and don't fucking move."

He stood up and buckled his pants.  There was a searing pain which he tried to ignore and a wet spot- he could feel the blood and cum to an uncomfortable extent.  It was awkward to move, the tight pants made it hard to move.  He sat with his hands between his legs – looking down.  Beecher watched from his table but stayed where he was, obviously something had happened and he had a pretty good idea of what.

Ryan was there in 10 minutes and sat next to Miguel and loudly dropped a tray in front of him, he was surprised Ryan actually brought him food.  He didn't say a word.  The Irish were giving him very pleased looks – he didn't like that, what the fuck was going on?  He sat there silently, afraid to eat.  Afraid to do anything.

Mark walked in and Miguel looked up and briefly thought about warning him – but Ryan nearly growled, "Don't even fucking look at him bitch."

He quickly looked down to the table – but could still see Mark approaching.  Ryan stood up to intercept him, "You're gonna to gen pop – I'll make sure if it, understand Mark?  Go sit somewhere else, you aren't welcome here and you better hope you don't see me again today.  As it is – you make it till tomorrow without ending up in the infirmary and you'll be lucky."

Miguel didn't look up, but the now familiar urge to cry was making itself known.  Ryan glanced past him, "We talked boys – you know what to do with him."

They laughed a little – at least there didn't appear to be any dissent, part of it was the general distrust of Mark.  He found himself realizing he should be worried about  _himself._   He wasn't stupid, O'Reily had a plan – the pain he was in now had been a side thought.  He really didn't' want to get fucked by the other Irish.  He shifted his weight and a sharp pain reminding him how bad this was gonna be.  It felt uncomfortably wet and the tight pants rubbed against him painfully.

Once everyone was eating he leaned over to talk to Ryan quietly, "Sir-"

"Just eat bitch.  Don't talk."

"But sir-"

He nearly got knocked out of his chair when Ryan backhanded him, "Shut the fuck up and eat!"

"Sorry sir."  He did as he was told, literally terrified for his life to do anything else.  When they were done Ryan motioned someone to get the trays and grabbed Miguel – yanking him to his feet.  He couldn't stop the whimper of pain at the sudden movement.

Ryan ignored it and shoved him forward – he moved a little awkwardly – between the pain and blood and...other fluids, getting sticky.  They got back to Em City and Ryan dragged him to the showers.

"Get undressed and cleaned up."  He didn't argue just did as he was told like a good little prag.  He was under the water when Ryan grabbed him by the collar and pulled his head back, "Who else knew?"

He managed to hold back the sneer but barely, "Kirk.  Timmy Kirk knew."  He let go of him and he got to cleaning up.  He didn't know where Ryan got a towel but one was shoved at him and he wrapped it around his waist.

Ryan ran his hand over Miguel's head, "Get to the pod, okay?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good boy.  And in case you don't realize it – you are in deep fucking shit – so don't wander off or talk to anyone – do you understand?"  He nodded and Ryan gave him a push towards the pod.

He sighed as he watched Miguel slink away.  What a huge fucking fuck up.  Colin walked up next to him, "Boss?"

"Kill him.  Bring me Timmy."  He turned and walked to the supply closet to wait for them.

He looked around confused as he walked into the closet, "Ryan?"

He watched him, "You knew about Mark and Alvarez."

He hadn't been sure if Miguel had been telling the truth or just getting Timmy out of the picture.  His eyes gave him away.  "That's what I thought.  You want to follow someone else's orders?  Hide things from me?"  He walked up to him and patted his cheek before looking to Colin.  "Break his legs."

He left to Timmy screaming.  Oh, well, it was time to tidy up the ranks anyways.  And now for Miguel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember.... it's the darkest before the dawn!


	14. Chapter 14

Miguel was sitting on the bed and when he saw Ryan he started to cry.  He held back a sigh, it was so much easier earlier but now Miguel... he didn't know what.  He gave him no slack – was as hard on him as he could be – and the boy just kept bending.

He wore the clothes – played the part – such the perfect little prag.  Of course now he found out that he was getting fucked by Mark and well, there had to be consequences.  Mark, well that was a shame to lose him, but he didn't know what o do with Miguel.  He had to do... something.  He didn't want to seriously hurt him and he felt like a dick being mean to him while he sat here crying.  He had pulled boxers on but that was it.  "Stand up."

He did hesitantly – cringing from Ryan, "I'm sorry Ryan.  I- I had a good reason – I really did.  Please don't hurt me..."

"What was your reason?"

"Wh-what?"

He backed him to the wall and hit it hard enough make Miguel jump.  "Your good fuckin reason?"

He looked down; he really didn't want to tell Ryan.  "Miguel – tell me your reason – give me a fucking reason not to have to do something drastic."

"Because... it hurt. Because he was mean."

Ryan put his hand to his forehead – feeling a headache starting and he moved fast slapping Miguel across the face, "Start making sense prag."

"To prove that I could."

A guard hit the window and Ryan backed up – hands in the air.  Whittelsey watched for a moment and then moved on.  Ryan waited for a few seconds and then grabbed Miguel under the collar and shoved him against the wall.  "Your good fucking reason was defying me?"

He realized how it had sounded, "NO, no!  That's not what I meant sir; I meant... it was to myself because if I – if I could do that with Mark – even enjoy it then it meant-" He hesitated and O'Reily's grip tightened, making it hard to breathe.

"Meant what?"

He spoke quickly, "That the only reason – only thing I felt was cause I was a prag and not because – because" he had dissolved into tears, but Ryan got it.

"Because you like it when I fuck you.  Bet you love sucking me off, huh?  And probably just simply adore spending time with me – don't you?"

Miguel cried the more Ryan talked – his fucking life was over – there was nowhere to go from here.  He didn't feel Ryan move but suddenly there were lips pressed against his and he opened his mouth, needy, reaching up to cling to Ryan.

Ryan pulled back to look at him – his eyes closed and his mouth slightly open, the tear streaks down his face.  What the fuck should he do with this?  He let go of the collar and grabbed him by the back of the neck pulling him into a hug.  "Okay – listen, go to the infirmary and make sure you aren't hurt okay? And fuck, get dressed okay?"

He cringed, "I don't want to go to the infir-"

"I don't care – you we're bleeding and I want you check out.  While you're gone I'm gonna talk to Beecher. Go."

He didn't argue, just pulled on his clothes and headed towards the infirmary, trying to figure out how to explain this.

Ryan watched him till he went off with the guards and then headed towards Beecher and Keller's pod.  Beecher was sitting on his bed and Keller appeared to be talking angrily.  As he got closer he realized that Beecher had a black eye.  They both stood up when they saw him, "Beecher-"

Keller stepped bodily in front of him, "What?"

"I just gotta talk to Beecher-"

Keller widened his stance, getting aggressive, "I've already talked to him – taught him its not nice to step in between a prag and it's owner.  Trust me, he understands."  That explained the black eye anyways, and he realized that Keller thought he had come to threaten Beecher.

"Hey, calm the fuck down and quit baring your teeth at me, I just have to talk to him, alright?"

"Don't fucking lie to me O'Reily – if you're gonna do something-"

"I'm not.  I have to much respect for you both, I just want to talk to him about Alvarez."

"Fine."

He moved in to talk to him and Keller left – giving them some space.  Ryan looked down at him, "You okay?"

He looked up quickly, "I shouldn't have covered for him- I hope this doesn't fuck up the truce between Keller and me and the Irish."

"Gave it to you good, didn't he?"  
"Listen Ryan-"

"It's alright Beecher – you make it seem like it would be

so easy for me to kill you."

     "It's not?"

     He gave him a look, "You know it's not – I mean, who

covered your ass when you got here?"

     He sighed, "What do you want to know?"

     "What the fuck is Miguel thinking?"

     "I don't know."

     "Yes you do – and I need to know Beecher because you and I both know that I should kill him for this or at least set him loose.  Give me a reason not to."

     He felt a little bad, but he wasn't feeling very protective of Miguel at the moment – not after 'lesson' Keller had given him for keeping secrets.  "He's in a frustrating place."

     "Explain it Beecher.  With actual words."

     "Well think of it like this.  Can you imagine if I had felt the way I do about Chris – but about Schillinger instead?"

     He didn't get it at first, "You'd be in a fucked up situation – I mean – it was pretty fucking harsh-" and then it hit him like a ton of bricks.  "You have got to be kidding me, Fuck!"

     "Yea – he's trying to... deny it – part of the reason I know this stuff with Mark happened, but he felt guilty about it all the time."  He looked away and then back, "Did you hurt him?"

     "A little."

     "Are you gonna hurt him more?"

     "I should."

     "You should, but are you going to?"

     He glared at him, "Fuck.  Thanks Beecher – and in the future – don't come between Miguel and I.  I won't be so understanding the next time."

     He felt a thrill of panic go up his spine and absentmindedly touched his black eye, "I don't plan on it."

     He nodded and headed out past Keller, "Thanks."

     "Get everything you need?"

     He looked down watching Miguel talk to the guard and nodded without taking his eyes off him, "Yes."

     Miguel approached the guard, "I need to go to the infirmary."

     "Why?"

     "Cause I don't feel good Murphy."

     "You look fine."

     "Murphy, please."

     He looked him over, "Alright Alvarez, you better not be trying anything."

     "I'm not."

     He was waiting for doctor Nathan as he saw Timmy.  He walked over to him, "Hey Timmy."

     "You fucking prag!"

     "Calm down Timmy – how are the legs?"

     "This is your fucking fault!"

     "Really?  I think not listening to Ryan is what caused this.  You know what?  I hear you are going to gen pop after this."

     Fear was on his face and it took him a second to recover, "Fuck."

     "You bet – but more liked fucked."

     "You don't know bitch!"

     "Remember what O'Reily said a couple months ago – they could always use a little red head in gen pop."  He was too angry to answer and Miguel leaned closer to whisper, "I can help."

     "Fuck no – last person to get between you to is gonna end up at the morgue."

     "I'm not asking you to – I'm just saying I'll talk to Ryan – get him to keep you in Em City – for a favor."

     "What favor?"

     "Two things, first of all keep in the loop about Irish dealings and second," his voice turned to a hiss, "Stay off my fucking back!"

     "Alright prag, you just better work on the fucking deal."

     He grinned, "Puta."

He waited for a while and then Dr. Nathan was there, "Alvarez, I haven't seen you for awhile."

     "Yea- I transferred to the kitchen."

     "And to Ryan's pod I hear."  There was an edge of bitterness in her voice.

     "Yea."

     "So what brings you here?"

     "Can we – maybe go into one of the little rooms?"

     "Normally I don't unless-"

     "Yea, I know.  But please? For me?"

     "Fine."  She had worked with Alvarez often and felt some obligation.  She shut the door, "What's wrong?"

     He looked around, "I, ah, fell... on a pole."

     She looked confused for a moment but then understood.  "You mean like when you were roomed with El Cid and uh, fell on a pole."

     "Yeah."

     "Well, you know what to do, take off your clothes and lay on your side."  He did as she told him – he had gone through this before with El Cid.  "Did this just happen Miguel?"

     " _Si._ "

     "O'Reily do this?"

     "I didn't say that."

     "I know – you never name names, no one ever does.  Does he always do this – this rough?"

     "No, normally its good."  It took him a second to realize what he had said and he scrambled to change it, "I mean – not good like I enjoy it – just that – that he doesn't hurt me normally."

     "Does this have something to do with Timmy Kirk coming in with two broken legs?"

     "Wouldn't know.  You've been here a long time – I'm a prag and that means I'm just there to fuck, not- Ow!"

     He looked back at her catching her before the grin was off her face and she was throwing away the disposable needle.  "Sorry, was that a little sudden?"

     He stared at her, "A little warning would have been nice."

     "My fault – just a little something to help the healing.  Everything looks ok – probably a little tear.  Just tell O'Reily to make sure you don't fall on any poles for a few days."  She must have seen the look on his face, "Right.  Just be more careful – do you want something to make it better?"

     "Ah, no, he was just angry or he would have made sure that I didn't get hurt."

     After some final words he headed out.  Walking back had him feeling better – he was still a prag but at least Timmy Kirk wouldn't have that power over him anymore.  He was feeling fantastic until he got back to Em City and his pod.  Until he was ordered to the ground by an unreasonably angry Ryan.


	15. Chapter 15

"Nose to the fucking ground Miguel- we got some shit to take care of."  Miguel did as he was told – lowering himself till his forehead touched the ground.  "Now I've been talking to Beecher and he filled me in on a few things."  He looked down at him on the ground.  "Tell me what you think I should do about you Miguel.  I think I should let you loose – or kill you which is probably more humane considering what they will do to you."

     "No – please Ryan – I don't want to be away from you."

     "Not even danger – you just don't want to be without me – right?"

     "Please sir!"

     He grabbed him by the collar and pulled Miguel up to a kneeling position.  "Okay, we have a choice here.  Either you go off on your own or you stay with me, but not until you have suffered.  To stay with me you will get fucked by-"

     "Alright sir, I choose staying with you."

     "You don't even know what the conditions are Miguel."

     He looked up at him – tears threatening to fall, "It doesn't matter.  As long as I end up back with you – you'll make everything better."  He was just so damn desperate, kneeling there sniffling.

     Ryan nodded, "Yea, that's what I thought you would say.  Do you even want to know the conditions?"

     "No – just please sir – as long as you make it better at the end, please."

     He couldn't take his eyes off him; he knew he should be happy about this.  It was a prag with all the devotion of a lover – but the obligation of a slave.  He should be happy to have this situation but he felt crappy as hell about it.  He hated degrading and manhandling Miguel when he knew that he was just gonna roll over, he hated hurting him when he knew he would just take it.  And most of all he hated it because – because his feelings weren't entirely platonic either.  He realized he hadn't though about Dr. Nathan almost since he had stumbled upon Miguel in the hallway that day, but he couldn't tell him that – couldn't jeopardize his power like that.

     He sat on the bottom bunk, "Kitten - come here."  He moved to him on his knees.

     "Where do I have to go first sir?"

     "What?"

     "Which of the Irish?"

     Ryan had never planned on actually letting anyone else touch him – he had only been testing him, and he felt himself get possessive at the words, "No one.  Fuck that plan.  Fuck the plans so far."

     He looked nervous, "S-sir?"

     "Don't worry, don't worry.  It's not a bad thing."  Miguel rested his head on Ryan's thigh and he could feel him shaking, "Okay.  We have new rules."

     Miguel tried not to whimper, how harsher could the rules be?  They were already painfully strict – but he was aware of how much worse it could get.

     "Alright Miguel, the collar stays.  I want you to be on your best behavior.  I want you to stay with me.  All the time, through meetings and working – all the time.  None of this with Keller or Beecher thing or with the other Irish – just me.   Would you like that?"

     He hated the condescending tone, but liked the thought of being with Ryan all the time.  "Actually, yes sir."

     "Yea, I thought you would.  You never leave my side and then we will see about getting you some more freedom.  Alright now about this deal with Timmy that you've made."

     He looked up, suddenly afraid, "Wh-what?"

     "He told me about it through Murphy, probably before you were halfway back here – he learned not to fuck with me."

     He had never even considered that Timmy would tell Ryan that he had tried to make a deal – not that fast, "Ryan I-"

     "It's okay.   I'm not mad and it's taken care of – I told him to get off your back and if you're always with me you will know what's going on.  So don't worry kitten."

     "Thank you sir."

     "Now, what did Nathan say?"

     "She said it was fine."

     "And?"

     "J-just a small tear."

     "Did she say how long till it's okay to fuck your sweet ass?"

     "Well she said – uh, now is fine."

     "It's okay?"

     "Well it shouldn't cause too much-"

     "Hey, wait a second.  I don't want to hear that – what did she say?"   

     He looked down, "She said not to for a couple days but I explained to her that it's not possible."

     "Why?"

     "Well I didn't think that you would put up with that."

     He sighed, "I can go a couple days without it Alvarez – I don't want to hurt you more."

     "I'm sorry I assumed sir."

     "Well – it's kind of like starting over Kitten and I don't think I need to tell you but – as much as I'd hate to do it you fuck up again and there isn't going to be this happy idea oriented fix."

     "I understand sir."

     "You better."  He looked around, "Now – you've been a bad bad kitten."  He unbuckled his pants, "So make your amends and do it fast before a guard comes."

     Miguel nodded and took Ryan in his hand before lowering his head.  He didn't know if he could handle this.  Being around O'Reily all the time – especially now that he knew how he felt.  The first time Ryan got angry it would get shoved into his face.  He was so fucked.

     They sat there a few hours later while Ryan laid on his bed reading some pamphlet about some place.  Miguel saw Beecher, "Hey sir can I-"

     "No."

     "I didn't even finish."

     "I know."

     "So can I-"

     "No.  What part don't you understand about nowhere without me?"

     "I just want to talk to Beecher."

     Ryan didn't look up from the pamphlet but he raised his hand, "See this?"

     He looked at his hand, confused, "Your hand?"

     "Yes.  Now imagine a chain from my hand to your collar – because of this imaginary leash you can not travel more than 5 feet from me, understand?"

     He sighed and sat down on the floor of their pod, "Yes, sir.  Imaginary leash.  5 foot chain."

     O'Reily grinned and glanced at him for a second before going back to reading about tropical Cancun.  "Besides, I bet Beecher doesn't really want to talk to you right now."

     "Why?"

     "Because he learned what happens when he sticks his nose in other people's business."

     "Oh," he paused, "He's mad at me?"

     "Probably."

     "Well I don't... I hope he's not too mad at me."

     He closed his eyes and sighed before hopping off his bunk, "Come on."

     He headed towards Beecher's pod, Miguel at his heels.  "Beech, where's Keller?"

     "I don't know, around somewhere, need something?"

     "Alvarez wants to talk to you."

     "Fine."

     "Can you just send him back to my pod when you guys are done?"

     "Sure Ryan."

     He turned around to face Miguel; "I can see you from my pod – think of it this way.  The chain is in Beecher's hand so you don't go more than 5 feet away from  _him_  and I'll be watching you.  Got it?"

     "Yes, sir."

     He headed out and Miguel stepped into the pod hesitantly, "I'm sorry."

     "You should be."

     "I know."

     "What's with the chain thing?"

     "Imaginary chain – it's like a leash, I can't go more than 5 feet away.  It's a new rule – I'm not allowed to leave his side."

     "Good – he should have a real fucking chain to keep you from fucking the first guy that comes along."

     "Beecher, I'm sorry I caused so much trouble for you – I didn't mean to – I'm sorry Keller got mad-"

     He turned suddenly, "You should be!  You have it good for your situation and you had to go fuck around!"

     "Oh, like you never did that."  They turned to face Chris, "I believe I watched it."  He moved smoothly into the pod.

     "That's different Chris."

     "Why?"

     "Cause it was."

     "What are you doing here Miguel."

     "T-talking to Beecher."

     "Have you heard?"

     Beecher noticed the note of amusement in his voice, that was never good, "What?"

     "Your little fuck buddy was found Alvarez, he's probably not gonna be meeting up with ya anymore."

     "He's dead?"  Miguel felt sick – it was his fault.

     "Trust me – he's probably better off dead – he didn't go easy."

     "I-" He grasped a little, "Beecher can you take me back please?"

     "You okay?"

     "Ya – I just need to go back and see Ryan now, please?"

     "Sure-"

     Keller gave him a look, "I'll bring him."  He headed towards the pod with Miguel following, "Here's your bitch O'Reily – you might wanna talk to him."

     Ryan looked at him, he seemed a little pale.  "Thanks Keller.  You okay Kitten?"  
     He gasped, sucking in lung fulls of air – on the brink of having a break down, "He's – he's dead."

     Ryan wrapped an arm around him and pulled him into the pod whispering harshly, "What the hell did you think was gonna happen Miguel?  You expect me to take this in stride, just let it go?"

     "Well I- I" his breathing sped up and he sat down on the bed.  He hadn't felt nearly as strongly about Mark as he did Ryan but he had been friends with him and he had a relationship of sorts with him even if only fuck buddies.

     Murphy stepped in, attracted by the commotion, "What's going on in here?"

     "Nothing Murphy – I just told Miguel that he looked fat – you know how girls are – I hurt his feelings."

     "Don't fuck with me O'Reily."

     "I'm not.  Miguel, tell him."

     He didn't look up but nodded, "Y-yea Murphy, just got my feelings hurt."

     He nodded and moved on after a few side-glances.  Ryan cringed, "Miguel pull yourself together,  _now._   You are attracting too much attention!"

     He tried to sniffle his tears, "It could have been me."

     "What?"

     "I- well just as easily it could be me dead.  I think that I might – maybe that I... have these feelings for you that are so much more than a prag and – and you could kill me without blinking an eye."

     "That's the way it goes Miguel – you know that."

     "Yes sir-" He was interrupted by the call for count.  He talked to his people for a few minutes letting Miguel go back into the pod. 

     "Wanna play cards Miguel?"

     "No thank you sir."

     "Play chess?"

     "No thank you sir."

     He stepped towards him angrily, "Quit fucking pouting."

     "I'm sorry sir."

     "You're always fucking sorry – moping around so fucking injured."

     He sighed, "Sorry sir."

     He looked at him and then climbed up onto his bed – looking through pamphlets – he would let the little bitch stew.  He was just as angry as Miguel- he wanted him to realize that he had to do something about this – he was so fucking angry that Miguel put him in this situation.  Marks had not died prettily.

     They didn't talk till after lights out when O'Reily stuck his head over the edge, "Miguel, come up here."

     He stood up, "I thought we weren't gonna-"

     "We're not.  Just come up here."

     "Yes, sir."  He climbed up onto the bed – sitting across from O'Reily, "Yes sir?"

     "Listen – I gotta talk to you about all this shit that went down."

     He cringed, he knew this wasn't going to be a good conversation and since Ryan was always more gentle when they were physical he defaulted to that, anything to distract him, "Sir, while you talk is it alright if I give you a blow job?"

     "What?"

     "While you talk."

     He grinned, "I knew there was a reason I picked you for my prag."  He leaned back as Miguel crawled forward, and there was a comforting feeling to it.  "Oh fuck yea – right...talking."  He forced himself to concentrate on the words instead of Miguel's mouth, "I don't want you to think that... well... I couldn't just kill you that easy Kitten, not as easy as some people are taken care of."  He broke off for a moment when Miguel flicked his tongue and had to fight to get back on track, "I don't want to make life harsh for you.  I don't' think having you as a prag needs to include making you miserable.  All that does is create a bitter enemy eventually."

     Miguel listened to the words and grinned around the cock in his mouth, maybe things weren't so bad if O'Reily was starting to feel the same-

     Ryan grabbed the back of his head and shoved it down till his nose was buried in his pubic hair, so far down it was making him gag, "Don't mistake this for a weakness though Miguel – cause that will only hurt you."

     He let go of the rough hold and Miguel pulled up, he didn't stop the blowjob – he knew better than that and tried to control his gag reflex while he continued.  He wanted to cry – torn apart by how vicious Ryan was to him.  He started to sniffle but was able to keep Ryan from noticing.  He concentrated on the feel of Ryan in his mouth and closed his eyes.

     It was something he had started to do recently.  He pretended he wasn't in prison – that he was in some little hotel room – with someone who cared about him.  The only problem with the fantasy was that it made him...gay, because he was doing it on his own, but it didn't matter anymore because in his head he was in some tropical resort – giving his... boyfriend a blow job.  He almost didn't want Ryan to cum because then he went back to being a prison bitch – to sucking off a person who saw him as a fuck toy and nothing more.  So he absorbed the fantasy, because in this fantasy he could admit, if even just to himself, that he was falling in love with Ryan.


	16. Rounding Out the Rough Edges

"Does he have to be here?"

     Ryan was sitting on his bunk, talking to the Irish.  Miguel laid on the bed his head in Ryan's lap – looking up at the bottom of Ryan's chin.  "Yes."

     "Don't you think-"

     "How  _is_  Timmy doing?"

     Colin got the idea and stepped back a little – putting up his hands in surrender, "Sorry.  I wasn't questioning you."

     "Damn straight you weren't.  And he's fine – aren't you Kitten?"

     "Yes sir."

     "Don't worry boys – I have everything under control."  He slapped Miguel in the face – not hard enough to hurt but enough to get his attention, "I have him under control."

     "But Ryan – and I'm not questioning, how can you be sure about that?"

     Ryan sneered down at him, he felt bad exploiting Miguel's feelings for him – but after a few days of being around him all the time he could see how blatantly obvious it was that Alvarez was falling for him.  Had already fallen.  Whichever the situation he knew now that Miguel would do anything at all for him.  "Trust me on this – he's completely tamed."

     "Alright Ryan – whatever you say."

     "Fuck right whatever I say."  He pushed Miguel off his lap, indicating for him to sit up.  "We need to look into this movement with the Aryans.  I don't really care what they do but they are starting to infringe on our drug trade.  That I know – now tell me why."

     "It's Schillinger – after he got fucked over by Beecher and didn't get his parole he's been taking it out on the tit trade.  We used to be able to sneak some of the shit through but he's caught all of them."

     "Fuck.  No wonder profits are down so fucking much."

     "I know how we can fix this.  
     He raised his eyebrows, "How's that?"

     "We could kill Beecher – let the Aryans know it was us – that would get Schillinger off our backs."

     Miguel sat up straight suddenly – instantly anxious.  They couldn't kill Beecher.  He kept his mouth shut though and Ryan noticed it, acknowledging him with a brush of his hand against his face.  "That would create a shit storm – Beecher has gained a lot of friends and of course thing about the crazy fucker that kills anyone that touches Beecher."

     "You sure it's not just because him and your pet project there are girlfriends?"

     Miguel barely acknowledged the insult – he had heard them enough that it rolled off of him.  He leaned back resting on his elbows and waited for Ryan to do his thing.

     Ryan turned his angry glare on Colin, "You're questioning me again.  Look at me – it's gonna be the  _last_  time I say this.  I would not let a piece of ass cloud my mind about my decisions for us."  There was a flinch from Miguel that no one really noticed.  "If you continue to question me – I'll bring in those who won't."

     Colin nodded but there was still a shadow of doubt in his eyes, "Alright Ryan."

     A smile suddenly curved his lips, "I'll tell you what boys.  I'm fair – you think I'm too protective of my bitch – will it calm your fears if I let Colin fuck him?"

     Miguel didn't react but it took a lot of effort.  Ryan slipped off the bed and stood toe to toe with Colin who was looking at him cautiously, "You killed Marks for touching him."

     He smirked, "For touching him  _without_  my permission.  You honestly think that it was about him?" He hooked his thumb at Alvarez, "It was about obedience and questioning me.  A lot like you keep doing."

     Colin looked around him at Miguel, who hadn't moved but looked shocked despite his efforts to hide it.

     "I can fuck him?"

     "With my permission, yes.  He is Irish property, don't get too many ideas though, I'm not gonna give it often cause as the boss I get the right to not have my prag fucked by everyone."

     "When?"

     He looked at him at the almost forceful question.  Since he had mentioned fucking Miguel, Colin hadn't taken his eyes off of him.  It reminded him of the way Robson had nearly drooled over Beecher when Schillinger had him.

     "How about now?"  He nodded quickly and Ryan turned for the first to look at Miguel and had to keep his emotions in check at the fear and hurt on the other's face.  He  _had_  to do this,  _had_  to keep his men together but he hated it with every fiber of his being.  He had meant what he said, maybe Miguel meant more to him that just a piece of ass – but no matter what he wouldn't sacrifice his men for him.  "Miguel – shower time – now."  He didn't move – still in shock.  He leaned close to him and talked low enough that only Miguel could hear, "You didn't care when it was  _Mark_ ," he raised his voice, "Now bitch!"

     He didn't look at him as he slid of the bed and started to strip.  "Alright boys – think of what can be done and we will pick this up later."  They all headed out with the exception of Colin.  He reached under the mattress and pulled out two things.  He handed them to Colin and he looked down at the lube and condom.  "Use both."  Colin made a face and Ryan shook his head, "You wanna bareback someone dry and tear them up then find some new fish in a dark corner," a smirk curved his lip, "or wait till Timmy gets out of the infirmary."

     He smiled but then his face turned serious as he nodded, "uh, Can I?"

     Ryan looked at him, he thought they had already established he could fuck Miguel, "What?"

     "Fuck Timmy."

     There was a pause as Ryan looked at him –  _really_  looked at him.  There was a glaze to his eyes of anticipation and just like that he hadn't Colin's number.  Mark had been calculating – Ryan suspected that was part of the reason he had gone after Miguel, but Colin was just in it for the fuck.  He was like a well-trained dog – loyal and horny.  "He's your new podmate when he comes back, right?"

     "Yeah."

     Ryan nodded, "Alright Colin – until I say different – once he comes back he's yours, just don't put him back in the infirmary."

     "Alright – can I take Miguel now?"

     "Yea."  He grabbed Colin by the collar of his shirt suddenly, "He's just healed a few days ago – if you damage him – I won't be happy.  You wanna be a little rough you can, but if you cause him serious damage – I'll be cause  _you_  some serious damage.  Understand?"

     "Yeah."

     "Good – go to the showers and Miguel will be there in a few seconds."  

     "Okay O'Reily – thanks."

     He headed out and Ryan turned to look at Miguel, naked except for a towel around his waist.  He kept his eyes on the ground, "Do what he fucking says, got it?"

     He didn't looked up, "Yes sir."

     "And be good – I know you are a great fuck – you don't gotta be fantastic but don't stand there like a rock."

     "Yes sir."

     "Miguel – look at me."  He looked up slowly, pain in his eyes.  He pulled him forward and kissed him, "It had to be done."

     "I know sir."

     He paused for a moment, "No kissing – if he tries to tell him anything with your mouth is off limits.  If he tries you tell him I said no."

     "That means no blowjob or anything first, right?"

     "Fuck yea.  He gets a fuck and that's it.  Go- hurry back."

     Miguel nodded and left, trying to push down the betrayal he was feeling.  He stepped in the showers and realized that O'Reily didn't have to worry about kissing.  He was shoved face first against the wall hard and Colin pressed against his back.  Lean over the sink and don't talk."

     He did as he was told and winced when Colin thrust into him.  He was wearing the condom and had lube on it but he hadn't prepared him at all.  It wasn't that bad – Miguel acknowledged somewhere that his body was getting used to it – but it still hurt a little.  There was a hard slap to his ass and a low grunting from behind him.  Idly he wondered what was wrong with him as a hard on grew as Colin's somewhat clumsy thrusts managed to stroke his prostate here and there.  Even the rough treatment made him kinda hot... he was so fucked up.

     He had settled into a rhythm and decided it wasn't as bad as he had though but then Colin started to talk.  "Miguel – I got a question."  He punctuated the statement with a particularly hard thrust that made Miguel cringe. 

     "What?"  The word was strained."

     "How long have you been in love with O'Reily?"

     He shoved backwards at the comment but was shoved back across the sink, "Stay there bitch.  Touchy subject?"  It had knocked Miguel off track and he suddenly remembered where he was and concentrated on looking at the chips of paint on the sink.

     "You think people don't know?  The way you look at him – fuck, I can here you moaning when he fucks you at night from my pod."  He slapped his ass again, "And here I thought Beecher was pathetic and you just sky rocketed right past him on that front."

     Miguel worked to ignore him, not ready for people to know that kind of thing.  He didn't really think  _everyone_  knew – probably the Irish though because he was around them all the freaking time.  The thrusts go harder and Miguel tried to relax and finally spoke up, "Just cause the fucking is fun doesn't mean I love him.  If I got to do it, so I enjoy it, does that make me a bad person?"

     Colin snickered, "No.  It makes you a fag."

     Miguel's mind went completely blank at the statement and all he could do was push back against Colin, making it good like Ryan had told him to.  "What?  No comeback to that?"

     "No."  His voice was barely audible.

     "I didn't think so."  The thrusts were getting faster and less rhythmic and Miguel reached down to jerk himself off but Colin stopped his hand disgust in his voice, "No one said anything about you cumming.  I don't want your fag juice anywhere near me."

     He sighed and put his hands back on the counter.  He tried to think of anything but Colin's thrusts and especially not Ryan because that only made his dick harder and he couldn't touch it.  It wasn't much longer before there was a final thrust and a grunt from Colin.  He pulled out and slapped him on the ass.  He didn't bother to shower, just threw the condom on the ground and wrapped the towel around himself.

     Miguel waited a moment and then stood under the shower spray – rinsing off.  He wanted to reach down and jack off but at that moment the Latinos chose to enter and he grabbed his towel wrapping around his waist and passed them quickly.  He walked to his pod, his head down.  At first he thought Ryan wasn't there and panicked but then he saw him lounging on his bunk.

     He didn't say anything as he dropped the towel and pulled on his boxers.  He was looking for his pants when Ryan spoke, "Come here."  He obediently moved over, crawling up onto the bunk as Ryan patted it.  He lay on his back on the inside of bunk, a place he had learned.  With Ryan sitting up it had the dual purpose of blocking other's view of him and it gave Ryan access to run his hand up and down Miguel's chest, playing with the soft trail of fuzz leading down from his belly button.  He sucked in a gasp and thrust up when Ryan trailed one finger down the length of his cock through the thin piece of material.  "No reach around, huh?"

     He closed his eyes and tried to concentrate on what he had been about to say instead of the hand stroking more insistently as Ryan shifted to completely block Miguel from prying eyes.

     "R-ryan, am I a fag?"

     He frowned, "Did Colin say that?"

     "Yea, but then – when you touch me – I'm, I'm not thinking about some chick, I'm thinking about you."

     It was on the tip of his tongue to say that he did the same thing, that he thought of the smaller male when he was fucking him but then he realized the ramifications of that thought.  He slipped one hand inside the boxers, using it to distract himself as much as Miguel and spoke softly, "You aren't a fag Miguel, you're just adaptive."

     He stared at Ryan as the talented hand brought him closer and pouted a little, "I love you."

     Ryan sighed and sped up his hand as he leaned down to press a kiss to Miguel's lips, just in time to absorb the moan as he came in Ryan's hand.  He knew Miguel's reactions like the back of his hand.  He pulled back and lifted his hand to have Miguel lick the cum off of it, the pink tongue slightly rough against his fingers.  His voice was a little sad, "I know you do."  He knew that Miguel loved him and it made things so much more difficult.  Part of him wanted to rejoice in that feeling and maybe even, his mind balked at the thought, return it, but he also had to remind himself that Miguel was a prag and  _needed_  to be treated as one.  If you gave them an inch they would take a mile, look at Beecher.

     "Did he hurt you at all?"

     He shook his head, "Not physically, no."

     Ryan smirked playfully, "He hurt your feelings cupcake?"

     The pout got bigger, "Yes."

     "Next time I see him I'll tell him he smells funny."

     A smile involuntarily appeared on his face at the thought, "You really gonna let him have Timmy?"

     "I said I was."  His voice was steel.  "He's on the shit list, he's lucky he ended up in the infirmary and not the morgue."

     There was an uneasy silence as Miguel abruptly remembered that it was all  _his_  fault, all the shit with Timmy.  "I should be dead."

     There was no hesitation, "Yes, you should."

     "But I'm not."

     This time the sound he made was angry as he abruptly slid off the bunk, "No. You're not."

     He rolled to his side and rubbed his face against Ryan's pillow – momentarily lost in the scent of him before he remembered what he was gonna say, "Do you with that I was dead?"

     He glared at him, "You know damn well I don't – that's the fucking problem!"  He kicked the garbage can sending it skidding across the pod and waved off the guards that looked over.  He turned to face Miguel, "You know that! ...What are you doing?"

     He had snuggled against Ryan's pillow, puling his blanket around him, taking comfort in the warm familiar scent, "Nothing sir."

     "You're... you're going to sleep!"  He sounded kind of indignant, "I'm yelling at you and you're just – going to sleep!"

     "Sorry, sir."  The words were drowsy though and every time his eyes fluttered shut there was a longer pause before opening them again.  He felt Ryan's hands on him but before he could even expect anger Ryan leaned down to briefly press their foreheads together and pulled the blanket up around him.

     "Get some sleep Miguel."

     He stood watching him until he was sure the other was soundly asleep and glared at himself in the mirror.  "What are you doing Ryan?  What are you doing with  _him?"_   After a moment he nodded at himself, he needed to talk to Keller.


	17. And Making Things Work

He tapped on the pod wall and Beecher's head jerked up before nodding for Ryan to come in, "Hey Beech, haven't seen you around in awhile."  The ground was still a little rocky between them since Toby's part in the whole Ryan/Miguel drama.  And when exactly did it become drama?  He cringed at the term.

     Beecher wasn't looking at him, "Ya know- haven't really wanted to go anywhere."

     "He's grounded."  Chris's booming voice startled him but he didn't let it show.

     Beecher glared at Chris and purposely turned the opposite way picking up a magazine, "Grounded?"

     Keller nodded and moved to Beecher grabbing him by the hair and tilting his head back, "What, no kiss?"

     Beecher all but hissed, but climbed stiffly to his feet pressing his lips to Chris's obediently.  He pulled back but Chris didn't let him go, "Did I say on the lips?"  He arched his eyebrow and the meaning sunk in and Beecher nearly growled before pulling away.

     "Fuck you."

     His grin only widened, "Love you to Tobe."  He looked at the sulking form for a moment before turning to Ryan, "What can I do you?"

     He resisted the urge to roll his eyes as Chris giggled to himself and the play on words.  "I need to talk to you."  He couldn't resist the temptation thought as he nodded in Beecher's direction, "Grounded?"

     He shrugged, "I grounded the little bitch."  He smiled as Beecher ignored him, "Can't get into trouble if he can't leave the pod."

     "How do you balance it?"

     For once Chris didn't play dumb and shrugged a little looking at Beecher, "I love him – I own him – it just works."

     Beecher muttered from the other side of the room, "You don't own me."

     There was a glint in his eyes as his head snapped to look at Beecher and O'Reily couldn't tell if it was amusement or anger, "Yes, I do."

     He dropped the magazine and stood, "No, you don't."

     He stalked towards him and Ryan expected trouble but he didn't see any fear on Beecher's face.  "I do."  He shoved Beecher against the pod wall and grabbed his hair kissing him fiercely.  Beecher melted into the touch.  Ryan coughed and they pulled apart as Keller spoke quietly, his words affectionate, "All of you.  Head to toe.  All mine."

     Beecher's eyes were content and he nodded, murmuring his agreement.  They stayed that way for a moment and Ryan felt uncomfortable suddenly, like he was intruding.  He was about to make his exit when Beecher spoke up, "Is it okay if I go take a shower Chris?"

     "Yea baby, hurry back."

     He nodded and grabbed his towel, pausing the barest of moments before stripping and wrapping the towel around his waist.  He used to be embarrassed when he undressed but Oz had broken him of that.

     Keller lifted himself up onto Beecher's bunk and gave Ryan a grin, "You needed to know what now?"

     "Miguel – well, he loves me but I don't know how to handle him – I thought you could help seeing as we're in the same boat, what with you and Beecher."

     He looked at him carefully, "Yea but, I love Beecher right back."  He was a sexual predator and he could read O'Reily's reaction like he had said it.  "Okay – maybe you are that much like us."

     He looked horrified, "I don't love him!"

     He grinned, "Your eyes say different Irish."

     He turned towards the door, "I shouldn't have fucking even came here."

     "Woah, O'Reily – alright, no warm fuzzies between you, I got it."  He waited till he turned back around, he didn't really care what they did but he knew Miguel's welfare was important to Beecher and how happy it would make him if this little chat could help the bitch, "Alright?"

     He looked pissy now and Keller decided that living in Oz with these bitches was like living with over testosteroned chicks, "So, what do you do?"

     He thought about it, "It gets a little complex-"

     O'Reily snorted, "Can't be that complex or you wouldn't be able to do it."

     "Do you want my help or not?"

     "Sorry, yea, go on."

     "First of all – maybe I should have Beecher talk to him, ya know.  Girl talk."

     He cringed, "I don't want them together."

     A darkness that unnerved Ryan crossed his face, "He won't do anything like that again. I could swear my life on it.   _His_  already rests on it."

     Ryan looked at him for a moment, "Could you kill him, really do it?"

     "No, but I could make him wish I did."  He shook of the darkness like it was water, "But that would take a lot, most things a smack or a rough fuck can fix or a grounding."

     "Well maybe that would help – you'll ask him to talk to him?"

     "No need.  He'll do it."  He looked Ryan up and down, "On your part if its like I think it is, let him know that thing that you don't have for him."

     His mouth tightened but he didn't deny it, "Won't that, you know... I'll lose power."

     He let some admiration show when he grinned, "He's terrified of you.  He's in love with you.  He is seriously fucked if you drop him; all that it will do is make him that much more devoted to you.  Because anything you do to him, he'll be obedient because he knows that in some way you love him."

     "I-I let Colin fuck him."

     "Well you gotta keep your men loyal."

     "So you think it was a good move?"

     "Now that you made your point I wouldn't do it again.  The kind of anger that creates won't do him well."

     "Alright.  Thanks Keller, even though I know you're only doing this because you want a nice compliant fuck from Beecher."

     He grinned, "True, but don't underestimate the value of a Beecher noncompliant and uh, persuaded."

     "I'll bring Miguel over when he wakes up, good?"

     "Yea," he smirked, "Beecher will be here."

    

He stretched as he woke up, realizing right away that he was in Ryan's bed.  He closed his eyes and snuggled down hoping Ryan wouldn't realize he was awake.  The soft laugh told him he hadn't succeeded.  "None of that Kitten, there is stuff to be done."  There was a soft kiss pressed to his forehead and he grinned, until he was bodily pulled off the bunk, hitting the ground half standing, only held up by Ryan, "Wakey wakey."

He frowned at him as he regained his balance, "Yea thanks," he quickly amended his tone, "Where to sir?"

"Beecher and Keller's pod."  As he expected Miguel balked and he gave him a soft grin, "Don't worry – and get dressed."

Belatedly he realized that he was still in his boxers and mumbled an okay as he looked for some clothes.  Tight pants and black wife beater, he grinned as he pulled it on.

Ryan glanced at him and frowned, "That's my shirt."

He wrapped his arms around it tightly, as if afraid Ryan would take it away, "I know."

"Why are you wearing my shirt?"

He thought about it, "Cause it's yours."

He had noticed that the last few days, the way Miguel seemed to be trying to wrap Ryan and his stuff around him, trying to escape it almost seemed.  "You're a little bent, you know that?"

He nodded, "Can I keep it on?"

That wasn't a good idea, it shifted the type of the relationship in some unsaid way, it was a little too comfortable – a little too domestic.  Others would see it too.  He opened his mouth fully intending on saying no, "Yea."  He frowned at his mind's seeming change but let it go when he saw the grin that appeared on Miguel's face.

"Why are we going to see them?"

"You're going to see Beecher.  Keller and I are going to, I dunno, watch Miss Sally."

"Why?"

He grabbed his wrist pulling him out of the pod, "Don't' get that petulant tone with me."

"Sorry sir."  He moved with him, "Beecher doesn't like me anymore."

"Maybe not, but you two are gonna talk because Keller and I say so."  
     He pouted a little and Ryan tightened his grip around the smaller wrist, making him instantly contrite, "Sorry."

He didn't look at him; "You're kind of a pain in the ass when you wake up."

"Sorry, sir."

"Eh, I'm not a morning person either."  He released his grip on his wrist, his hand moving to the small of Miguel's back as they moved through the pod door.  "Beecher.  Keller."

Beecher was pouting on the bed and looked annoyed but that seemed aimed at Keller.  He gave Miguel a tight smile.  Keller stood up, "Alright girls, have a nice chat while the boys go play."  He shoved past Miguel unbalancing him a little and Ryan heard Beecher mumble something about Chris's maturity under his breath.

He squeezed Miguel's shoulder, "Don't leave the pod," and he followed Chris to the TV.

"Hey Miguel, you okay?"

He looked to the ground, "I'm sorry-"

"We've been down that road, just leave it alone.  You okay and all?"

"I'm all healed if that's what you mean."

"Part of it."  He motioned Miguel to sit next to him on the bunk.  "I meant – well  _Keller_ ," there was the slightest distaste in the name, "said Ryan let Colin have sex with you."

Miguel looked at his hands folded in his lap, "Yea, he did.  He didn't really have a choice though."

"He shouldn't have done that."

He looked up at the coldness of the statement, "After the Mark think I don't really deserve to be treated any better."

"Of course you do – if Keller ever thought he could tell me who to go fuck-"

"We're not you and Keller.  I mean – I, I love him but I'm still just a prag."

"He cares for you too."

"Yeah- he would hate to go back to just him and his hand."  
     "It's more than that – why do you think I'm talking to you now?  He's worried about you."

"He shows it well."  
     Beecher frowned, "Why don't you just submit to him?"

"What are you talking about?  I do everything for him."

"Yea but – you need to stop thinking about it like your obedient because you're his prag – and start looking at it like you have to obey him because there are no other options."

He looked confused, "I don't get it."

Beecher sighed, shifting on his bed.  "Everyone asks Chris how he makes this work – but no one thinks about my role in it.  Chris says that he owns me and I guess I accept that because he does as far as the prison is concerned."

Comprehension was starting to dawn but it wasn't quite there, "but... doesn't that, ya know, make you angry?"

"Of course it does, but its easier now especially when I think about where I would be without him.  Even with the crazy reputation I'd be getting ganged raped.  Without Chris I wouldn't have been able to keep standing up to Schillinger and... and I'm angry with him now and even if he comes back and at lights out insists of fucking –he's not gonna hurt me and I love him."

"That's kinda fucked up."

He gave a half hearted smile, "It is- but I wouldn't trade it for everything because all said and done – for being in Oz it's a damn good deal and downright caring, you understand?"

They sat there staring at each other, Miguel trying to grasp onto the thought he was so close to, he did things out of obligation to Ryan because he was Ryan's prag... and suddenly it was like a haze lifted.  Being a prag involved involuntarily being at Ryan's beck and call – and even though now he would do anything for him because of his love for him, because he _liked_  being dominated by Ryan – he still held somewhere that he did it involuntarily.  He didn't step out of line because he was angry or he felt he wanted to get back at Ryan – he did it because that's what prags do – they toe the line.  "Shit."

The smile on Beecher's face was captivating, "You get it then?  Really get it?"

He slowly nodded, "I think I do hermano."

"I knew you would."  He looked out and indicated Ryan to come get Miguel.  "I gotta go now – all this talk suddenly makes me not so angry at Chris."  He happily headed out of the pod and nearly pranced to Keller's table and covered his eyes – whispering playfully.  Chris grinned and pulled him onto his lap as Beecher giggled, until Chris caught his lips in a possessive kiss.  He tilted his head and when Chris slipped a hand into his hair and held it tightly he responded with opening his mouth more, complying totally with Chris, who made a sound at Beecher's submission, so used to the continuously stubborn man putting up a bigger fight and they both thought of how lucky they were.

The new hack Thompson and Murphy watched form the guard platform, not bothering to break up the kiss.  It was a full time job and as long as they didn't start fucking on the table, or at least noisily, Murphy dutifully went back to his magazine.

Ryan watched Keller and Beecher for a moment, it used to disgust him and now – now it just made him want to hold Miguel close.  He opened the door to the pod and Miguel obediently came out, tilting his head into Ryan's hand when he reached up to stroke his cheek and he whispered softly, "I'm sorry Ryan."  He let Ryan pull him forward till their bodies were flush and spoke softly, "I love you and I talked with Beecher and I- I didn't understand some things but now I do – and I can promise you, I'll- I'll be better from now on – not because I'm your prag but because I'm  _yours_.  Mind, body, soul.  I would do anything for you."

He slipped one arm around Miguel's waist and tilted his head down to whisper to him, "My men come first –they're my family in here, but so are you Miguel.  You... mean so much and I guess-" he choked a little on the words, ever instinct telling him that it wasn't in his best interest to say but looking at Miguel is was suddenly so simple, "Things – things can't be equal," he couldn't help the smile as Miguel nodded in agreement, "But... I love you too Miguel."

His lips were on the other's so fast he wasn't sure who had actually initiated it and he pressed Miguel against the wall, lifting him up so Miguel could wrap his legs around his waist – totally lost in their kiss.  Now that he had said it out loud, every touch – every movement was that much more potent.  This was where he was supposed to be- holding this smaller man – kissing him – loving him for the next 25.  Neither noticed the snickers or jibes sent their way – lost in their own version of what could only be called home.

"Alvarez and O'Reily are going at it too."

Murphy looked up at the two lost in what looked like a very... meaningful kiss, maybe even... hot if he thought about it too much.  Once he was past that it was guys, or maybe _because_  it was...

 "We should break them up – it's setting a bad precedent."

He looked down at the magazine, "Are Keller and Beecher still kissing?"

"...Yes."

"Are they fucking?"

"...No."

He looked up and grinned, "Then let it go."

"But McManus is gonna have a hissy fit."

Murphy glanced at the men on the floor level, happy, loving,  _male_  and suddenly grinned, tossing the magazine aside.  He brushed past Thompson on the way to McManus's office, glancing back to wink at him.  "Don't worry," his grin took on the slightest edge of a leer, "I think I can take care of McManus..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> Some of the timing is off, and that's my fault, but I just can't find something interesting for them to do in that 5 hours before lights out.


End file.
